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darkst4lker · 11 days ago

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crawling back to you. // sirius black

marauders era!sirius black x slytherin!reader

plot: sirius and you had been forced to be engaged by your families with the intention of maintain blood purity since you were twelve and he was thirteen. as time passed you became very close in an attempt to survive the situation together but you didn't expected him to leave you behind when he escaped from his family home. months later you decided to follow his steps and like clockwork, you were on the doorstep of the potters, crawling back to sirius one last time. tw: fem!reader, ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LENGUAGE!!, a lot of fluff, mentions of smut (nothing graphic), trauma, abusive families, forced engagement, very slightly unhealthy romantic dynamics between reader and sirius, a lot of angst and trauma bonding. maybe a bit of ooc sirius. notes: hiiii, this was supposed to be a christmas special but i didn't got to post it on time lmao, please enjoy it. this has a couple references to some songs!! iykyk, also my apologies for being so slow with requests i swear i am working on them i just can't help writing a thousand things at the same time. AND YES there's another sirius one-shot in the making that will be ready soon!! stay tuned!!

your steps were quick even in the cold, cruel snow. it was christmas eve, and a fast look to the clock on your right wrist announced that in two hours would be midnight.

the truth was that you never left your home this late without your parents. and for the first time the wand with a dragon heartstring core hiding in your sleeve didn't provide the safety feeling it did inside of hogwarts.

godric's hollow was full of christmas lights in every house, but the tears that left your eyes proved that you weren't in the mood to acknowledge the beauty of that special night. unlike the last sixteen years in your life, christmas felt uncomfortable and unfamiliar.

nervousness flooded your guts, doubts of the possible resolutions surrounding what you were about to do. the violent and suffocating memories of better times, or worst times if you looked at it from the perspective of the person you shouldn't have fallen in love with were destroying your insides.

and not to mention the ghost of the choice you made, lingering on your face in the form of a bruise you dear mother had planted on your cheek just like a loving kiss.

and the irony of the matter was, that your mother was the one to blame for all the things that were happening.

she had personally arranged your engagement with sirius orion black when you were twelve. she had made you fit into pretty dresses for all the parties in the black family home. she had taught you to care for him, to like him. she put sirius in your life and now that you loved him, fulfilling her desires, she hated you for it.

yet your loyalties were set. and there was no turning back now.

you remembered the night you met sirius, in his family home. grimmauld place was full of pureblood friends of both of your parents and your whole families.

in a display of respect, your parents had put you in a lovely and quite formal black dress. it was uncomfortable but for your mother, you tried.

you always tried.

you were born trying.

and in the moment you saw sirius, who you had seen before in hogwarts but never in detail, a sigh left your lips.

sirius was beautiful, dark. an obscure aura surrounded his face features, proving in an instant he had inherited all his family traits and even perfected them. yet the detail that stayed in your heart was the rebellious look on his face that never left even years later.

his eyes spoke in a secret language, subtly announcing he was a miracle of nature, the lion who was born in a snake nest.

and you quickly understood him. from the way his tie and hair were a bit messy, to the glass of wine he "accidentally" spilled on his mother. you noticed every act of silent revolution, and in some way you adored it.

almost by the end of the night, your parents left the both of you alone in the living room while his parents made a tour of the house for the guests.

to sirius, the first words you said to each other were always haunting his home and when he left, he carried them his chest like a knife, a vestige of resilience.

“i'm sorry.” it was the only words you could say. if sirius was angry before, you managed to escape from his temper radar.

he looked at you, a tortured sigh leaving his lips. his eyes now meeting yours and clouding your brain for a moment. the mesmerizing effect the sound of his voice provoked in your guts prophesied the sweet fate you would suffer one day.

“i'm sorry too.” he answered.

the two of you stayed in silence. sirius was starting to be known in hogwarts as a womanizer. he flirted with every person who caught his eye, and he wanted to experience them all. you were not one of them and you knew it.

he did not mess with slytherins. the known fame of being blood purists and dark wizards catched up with every kid who followed the serpent path even if you liked to think you were not like that because if you really weren't, most of your friends were.

in the end, you were associated with lucius, narcissa, evan and barty. you had hanged out with regulus multiple times, they were your friends and sirius obviously believed you were exactly like the most of them.

another pureblood perfect girl, raised to be tied to a man, bear an heir and die in the resentful solitude of her own home after a long unhappy and painful marriage.

but you knew from the start that you hated just the idea of it, even if was truly the life your parents planned for you because every single one of the things surrounding this kind of living was completely and utterly fake from the very beggining.

it was a game flooded with unhappiness, made to drain the joy of boys like sirius and sacrifice the girls like you by throwing them to the hungry wolves of motherhood.

yet, sirius had the typical greed of a young man and you wanted him to live the teenage love you craved to experience too. you had found a common ground, a piece to move on this board to save the both of you and help you stick together.

you clinged on this hope for dear life before speaking again.

“we don't need to love each other. i won't mind if you keep dating people .” you said, now avoiding his deep eyes. “the only thing i ask is for you to not treat me like an enemy.”

and that was the last thing you said to him before your parents appeared to announce you were leaving, bringing you back to the cold reality outside sirius presence.

after that night, you assumed he would ignore you in school but he didn't. it was a slow process for the both of you but after some time, he showed he now cared for you and you reciprocated.

when you were sick in the nursery, sirius would come around to check on you and he always brought you chocolate frogs. if he was irritated after losing a quidditch match, you would join his friends and take him to hogsmeade to cheer him up.

when your parents threatened you if you didn't had perfect grades, sirius would hug you. and when his parents got angry with him and sent horrible letters, you would hug him back.

sirius made you realize how abusive were your family and his, and how awful were your blood purist friends.

“someday i will leave my house.” he said to you one day while you were having lunch together in the gryffindor table. he didn't seem like he was joking. “and you need to leave too.”

“i don't know sirius. i'm not brave like you.” you answered. “i won't last outside my home, i love my parents.”

“you can't tolerate those assholes telling you what to do all your life.” he always answered when you had that same discussion. “they're going to ruin you in the end.”

and every single time, you fought back the urge to say that you were already ruined.

after a year you became friends, you thought. and when you reached your fourth year, it was clear you both were growing up. he got awfully handsome and a part of you started to fall for him.

every time the feeling invaded your chest, you dismissed it, because you knew he could never love you in the situation you were.

yet, he was still a man, and you started to caught his eye.

a new tradition settled between the both of you: once per week, you would have a date. it was in one of those dates where things would get even more messy than before.

“sirius.” you called him while you walked.

the hogsmeade streets were covered in thin snow, and you had insisted for hours to go to honeydukes but he had been too distracted in zonko's to hear you. now that you were outside, you were desperate to get something sweet.

“i know, honeydukes.” he answered, smilling. “i heard you the first million times you said it.”

“that means you were ignoring me!” you complained, taking your hand to your chest in a gesture of obvious fake offense. then a smile betrayed your little act. “you didn't answered at all inside there!”

sirius softly laughed, and you couldn't avoid noticing the way his leather jacket made him more attractive than you already thought he was.

“oh please, (y/n). you were being awfully persistent and i'm not a man of patience.” he said, jokingly. “would you have rather for me to shut up my beautiful future wife in front of everyone?” sirius added with certain sarcastic tone in his voice and then, he proceeded to softly ruffle your hair.

all he said was a painfully obvious joke, because he was messing with you. there was not a single hint of seriousness on his words and yet they went straight to your soul, making your heart painfully skip a beat.

after a while, you got to honeydukes and he decided to wait outside to smoke while you bought sweets. in the exact moment you were about to go outside with a plastic bag full of candy hanging from your hand, you casually saw through the store windows how sirius flirted with a girl you had seen in hogwarts multiple times. just as you opened the door to come back to him, he gave her a little peck and she left quickly like a breeze passing by.

it was not the first time you had seen something like that, nor the worst. many times before you even saw him making out with different people in hogwarts, but this had never happened in the middle of one of your weekly dates.

after that, you were incapable of hiding your new found bad mood the rest of your date, and sirius suggested in a caring gesture to get back to the school. of course he didn't knew why you were suddenly irritated, but he did noticed that something was happening and his first guess was that you needed to rest.

while you walked back to hogwarts, the bomb in your chest exploded. you stopped on your tracks and sirius walked a few steps before turning, a bit worried.

“hey, (y/n)." he said. "are you oka-...?”

the sudden sound of your voice interrupted him.

“are you really that good kissing girls?” it was the first thing that came out of your mouth. the words came out bitter. “or everyone says it because you just look good?”

“what?” his reaction was truly sincere in the amount of surprise he felt. that was probably the last thing sirius expected to hear from you, but he kept listening.

“seriously, i want to know. are you a good kisser?” you insisted. “because your brains are surely not enough to have the whole school crushing on you.”

“are you calling me stup-...?”

“i am asking why every single person who made out with you has to talk about how good you are.” you continued, still bitter. “because i don't wanna know, and i don't wanna hear it or see it. and i do think you're stupid indeed.”

of course you didn't really took sirius orion black for a stupid man, it was the anger in your throat talking shit you did not thought with the sole purpose of making him feel a bit bad.

sirius made a pause before talking, all the puzzle pieces suddenly falling into place and slowly revealing the motives of your fury. if you were another person he would probably stormed off by then, but you weren't.

and he surely was kind of enjoying this.

“(y/n), are you jealous?”

his question punched you in the face with the strength of a storm.

“no.” you quickly answered. a prideful word that slithered from your tongue in a desperate try to not appear vulnerable, until you fucked up by adding a question. “but why did you have to do that shit in one of our dates?”

a playful smile settled itself on his lips and you noticed he saw right through you. he always did, in some way.

“so you are jealous.” sirius stood with his arms crossed, looking at you. in a matter of seconds, you felt disarmed.

“of course not, why would i-...?” a desperate gasp drowned in your throat at the feeling of getting caught so quickly.

“for a slytherin, you're a terrible liar.” he said, shutting your words off. “but you're right, i'm sorry. i shouldn't have done that in our date.” he was still smiling like a tease.

“i-i-...” you stuttered.

your heartbeat was feral, and the way he calmly dismembered your worries made it all worse.

“you know, love, if you wanted a kiss you just had to ask for it.” sirius bet was high, he knew it. but he could see that you both needed this.

you felt your brain malfunctioning over his words yet you stayed prideful, not wanting to bend your dignity for him.

“i don't want-...”

suddenly, sirius approached you with brutal impulsiveness and got his final revenge for the multiple times you had interrupted him minutes ago. his lips met yours so fast that you dropped your bag of candy in the bare floor before your hands moved straight to hold his face.

he held your cheeks too, keeping you close as he took control. you were now trapped on sirius spell, and he proved how good of a kisser he truly was.

your first kiss, now layed on his heart forever. it would be another thing for him to treasure in the deep core of his soul when he ran away from his house years later.

after your mouths separateed it was clear that your irritation was gone. the look you gave to him in the close intimacy of the moment reminded him of a deer with big eyes.

“look at you, it this what it takes to soothe you?” he teased. “a couple of kisses and you're back to normal?”

you started to like the thought of marrying him.

“shut up, siri.”

it was in that exact moment when your relationship took a step further and making out in empty classrooms in the middle of the night at least once per month became a normal thing between you.

yet you knew he did the same with almost every walking girl on hogwarts so your illusions never grew because they were dead from the very start. it was okay. you didn't needed any exclusivity from him, sirius was feeding all the feelings you didn't fully notice you had and he was enjoying his teenage years.

it's okay, you repeated all the time to yourself. thinking about him with another person made you awfully jealous, but it was really okay. everything was right.

you didn't loved sirius black. yes, you liked him, he was handsome, mysterious and charismatic. the obscure aura that surrounded him still had its claws firmly dug into your skin since the first time you met him but still, you didn't loved sirius black.

or at least that was what you convinced yourself of.

then you got to fifth year and your parents got persistent with the fact that you needed to remain a virgin until you marry sirius. his parents were insisting too and before the year ended you were absolutely tired of it. in a new form of revolution, you and sirius got wilder every time you were alone.

your nights became the tale of a stygian lion hunting a dragon snake and sirius firmly believed he was hooked up to your venom. a soft, sweet serenade of kisses drowned in moonlight. but the innocence of it would die one specific night when he sneaked you into the gryffindor dorms while the students were partying in the common room.

you watched everyone drink and dance the night away while going up slowly by the stairs, sirius holding your hand. remus and james gave you a fast yet playful stare from the sofas of the common room and then you looked at sirius, who was distracted.

in that moment, like a melancholic joke of fate, sirius turned his head for a second to look at you. it was quick and barely noticeable but it was there, almost like orpheus guiding eurydice trough hell with the sole purpose of saving her yet carrying enough love inside of him to not resist the ought of looking if she was still there, with him.

once inside the dorm he guided you to his bed, he made sure to kiss your hands, arms, face and almost every part of you he could reach. sirius took care of all so you could focus on experimenting every single act of love executed that night.

he sneaked his hand between your legs and talked you through it softly, compelling you to fall apart into his arms. he held you tenderly when he went inside you, trying his best to not cause any pain and whispered sweet nothings in your ear as he guided you to your release.

it felt like if he had devoured your soul while allowing you to do the same to him, a ritualistic exchange that from that moment on, stayed in his skin like a tattoo.

you had your first time in sirius arms, and after you were done you knew that hurting you would never be part of his rebellion.

crying in each others arms after spending nights togehter also became more and more common as he started to fight more with his parents. as your fingers played with the dark locks of his hair before you felt asleep, it was clear that the doom for both of you was near and you could feel it.

“shh, everything is okay.” it was the tenth time you said that same sentence in the dark of night, holding sirius head against your chest as he silently cried. “i'm here, siri. we're going to be okay.”

“i just can't understand why they have to do this.” he whispered. “they don't see how much this is hurting us?”

you caressed his hair and his arms locked around your waist.

“i'm not sure what is crossing our parents minds.” you answered. “but i know we're going to survive this. together.”

sirius hid his face against you. his tears had stopped but his face was slightly red.

“one day i'll run away, and i will become a rockstar. and you will write and publish all the books you want.” he said. “we'll be free, i swear it on...”

he took a moment to think his next words.

“on...?” a weak smile settled on your face.

“on james. or maybe his mom.” sirius joked. “maybe on both of them so it's more important.” he laughed softly still having a sad undertone on his words.

you did the same as him, and your fingers interwined with his hair almost like rewarding the way he had managed to make you laugh.

“please don't leave without me.” you pleaded and words came like a whisper but sirius wasn't there to hear them, because he had fell asleep on your arms.

before you could noticed how cruel of a prankster fate can be, when you started your sixth year sirius instantly fleed his home and moved in with james potter.

chaos infested your families. your parents and his were livid, your mother was desperate to find you a new fiancé and sirius started to completely avoid you in hogwarts.

no more kissing, or long nights in each other's company. no more talking and sharing your worries. sirius made clear that you were now in different sides of the coin, and it destroyed your whole world in a second.

but at the same time you were in pain, the situation had woken a fierceness in your insides that you believed you had inside since you were born, but it was repressed for the sake of the peace in your family.

you were furious with your parents for controlling you, with sirius family for what they did to him, and with sirius himself for leaving you behind.

and that was the reason you were now approaching the potter's home with stolen money from your parents and all your luggage in the cold snow of christmas eve.

the truth was, you didn't know what you were exactly expecting or seeking. what you did know was that you wanted sirius to look at you in the eyes one last time and acknowledge your existence, your presence, your tears.

you wanted him to know that even if his family didn't care, you were in pain because you did.

so, with your heart in your throat and your soul hanging from your hands in despair you knocked at the door and patiently waited.

you were freezing outside the house but it didn't mattered anymore. the motivation in your chest eliminated all the doubts you could ever have.

when the door finally opened, james potter face received you. he had a smile on his face that almost faded in disbelief when he saw you.

“oh shit- sorry, hello (y/n).” he said, clearly surprised but polite. “are you okay? can i help you?”

“sorry james, i don't mean to intrude this late on a day like this one” you said, a certain weakness clouding your voice in melancholic chords. “can i speak to sirius?”

james looked at you, not really knowing what to say.

“i- yes, sure.” he finally answered. “do you want to come in?”

“no, it's okay. i don't want to be invasive.” you said. “it'll be really fast.”

the boy in front of you sighed and fixed the position of his glasses. then he gave you a weak smile.

it was not that james didn't liked you because in fact he did, he just had the fear that you were here to convince sirius of coming back home.

a quick and more detailed look at your face and he realized that was not the reason you were in his doorstep.

“i'll go get him, give me a second.” was what he said before entering the house again, leaving the door a bit opened.

you peeked briefly and a warm light recieved you along with the smell of food, making painfully obvious that you hadn't eaten anything since breakfast.

a few seconds later, sirius appeared completely opening the door in a fast and almost desperate move like if you were going to vanish if he didn't got to you quick enough.

james was behind him, distant to the conversation but still supervising to defend his friend if necessary.

“(y/n)” said sirius, looking at you like if you weren't real.

“merry christmas, siri.” you said, greeting him. the first words you both exchanged in months.

the nickname pierced his skin with violence, the vestiges of you and him were standing strong like an unforgettable oath in the corners of his brain.

your face was wet by tears and a subtone of red clouded your cheeks because of the cold and the bruise on your cheek was getting more purple as time went by. his eyes met yours, speaking that same old secret lenguage you now understood. then, you took a deep breath.

“what happened? what are you doing here?” he asked, confused and quite worried. “who hurted you? where are your parents?”

“i ran away from home.” you confessed, answering absolutely and every single one of his questions the sentence twisted sirius guts into oblivion and he stayed silent, thinking what to say.

he wanted to take you in, bring you to live with the potters, shelter you from the cold, heal your wounds and kiss your forehead even if he knew it wasn't that easy. you continued speaking.

“i don't expect you to welcome me into your life again, i assumed you wanted to distance yourself from the part of you that obviously includes me.” you started saying, measuring every word. sirius sighed. “but before we don't see eachother again, i need to tell you what i feel.”

there was a brief silence, and you swallowed back tears.

“i have imagined a thousand times what could be the result of coming here and speak about this, none of them had exactly a happy ending because i know by heart that you don't feel the same as me.” every word hurted you more than you thought. “but now that i've burned everything and followed your path, i have nothing more to lose.”

sirius looked at you and again, he saw righ through you. an understanding smile appeared on his lips, inviting you to continue.

“im listening, love.” he dared to say, noticing you were struggling to continue.

you took another deep breath before speaking.

“i've hated my parents since i was born, im sure of it. and just like you, when they trapped us in this mess, i was livid.” that was it, words started to come out one after the other. “but i was trained to endure so i tried my best to get along with you like my mom taught me. she always said to me that love wasn't important when it came to duty, and that my duty was to learn how to love you, respect you and give you kids. and if i didn't wanted to obey, she would hit me.” you sobbed, and sirius took a couple of steps closer to you.

the nasty mark on your cheek made clear to him that obeying your mother was exactly what got you that bruise. a bruise earned out of devotion for sirius, even if he didn't fully knew that yet.

he used his hand to fix a hair that kept falling on your face, and dismissed one of your tears carefully with his thumb.

“i know what youre thinking, because i thought the same every single time she explained that to me and yet, i tried to follow her words the best i could. and after getting to know you better and speaking of our shitty parents, i started to feel things. i was too young to notice but i know now that i've been going trough this for ages.” air got stuck in your throat, you talked too fast. “and i know i am giving it way too much thought, but my point is that i love you. and i've been doing so not long after i met you. i died inside everytime we layed on your bed and you spoke of getting away from your family because even if it was by the will of our sick, twisted parents, i really wanted to marry you.”

sirius wiped your tears again, giving you all his attention.

“but with time i changed my mind. i don't want to marry you because we have to but because we have the desire to do it. i really just want you to be happy siri, but before leaving me like that you need to tell me because-...” you sobbed again, and sirius caressed your cheek, soothing your cries. “you need to know that your parents, your brother, your cousins; they may not care but i do, i desperately do. im in an awful pain because i care for you so much that when you left everything fell apart in my life, and now im once again crawling back to you like i always do, hoping that you may want to have me.” you finished your monologue, one that you practiced a thousand times before this moment only to end up saying everything by heart and not by practice.

when you ended up talking, your body finally gave you proper permission to burst into tears. sirius recieved you in his arms by hugging you tightly and that was the first moments of warmth you got after a long time.

“shh, it's okay. you're okay now.” one of sirius hands caressed your back and the other went tenderly to your hair. “i'm sorry i left without saying anything and ignored you after.” he apologized, holding back some tears because seeing how you were crying was starting to make him to cry too.

“i really thought that you would be happier and better marrying someone picked by your parents, i had nothing to offer and being seen with a blood traitor would had ruined your image.” he continued. “i-i know it's a stupid reason, but what you said to me years ago sticked with me. you said you weren't strong enough to leave your parents, and i decided you didn't needed to get your life with your parents ruined because of my choices”

“b-but we talked about us running away before.” you answered, raising your head to look at him.

“we did, but once i did it i got so scared-.. ” tears finally won over him and he sobbed. “because i had nothing to offer you, not a home, not a way to protect you and even less money. i would be ruined if it wasn't for james and his family.”

you held him more tightly, as if you were about to melt with each other.

“and the cherry on top was that i thought you didn't loved me.” he admitted. “i was convinced that you didn't wanted to marry me or be with me. leaving was also my way of freeing you from us.”

you broke the hug for a moment, just like the first time he kissed you, you suddenly pulled him to you to lovingly smash your lips against his.

for the first time in a long time, sirius black was genuinely surprised. he grabbed your face and you kissed him softly, the love you spoke of was real.

all his doubts vanished in the cold wind, almost like sealing an oath of devotion. nothing in your sixteen years of life would had prepared you to reveal the secrets you've held inside your heart, but now that you did it and he did too, there was no turning back.

you quickly understood that your place, your home, your family, had always been sirius. the only person who understood the living hell you were going through and who did his best to make it better just like you did with him.

finally, the tale of the the snake and the lion was getting a resolution and they were now finding their ways back to each other's hearts like a forgotten mantra coming back from the death to be recited one more time.

“i love you, sirius.” was the first thing you said when you separated.

“i love you too.” he answered, still holding your face.

after a moment, when the both of you finally stopped crying, sirius interrogated you about where were you going to spend the night.

you didn't planned to stay at the potter's that night, but james had listened everything from where he stood and being the blast of sun and sweetness he was, he spoke to his parents and in an instant you were spending christmas in a warm house with sirius, james and his family.

that night in sirius room, the two of you layed together like many times before. his head on your chest, arms in your waist and your fingers playing with his hair while your other hand sweetly caressed his back.

this time was completely different though, because the whispering conversation wasn't about running away from your parents or his. this time, for the first time, you spoke of what you felt for each other.

“i love you forever.” he said in one moment. your heart jumped of emotion.

“i love you too, siri.” you answered.

he sighed in your chest.

“you don't know how much i awfully missed you” sirius admitted, moving to kiss you innocently on the neck.

“i missed you too, more than i thought i could.” you said, closing your eyes, ready to sleep intertwined with him.

those were the same exact words you would repeat to each other years later when you finally reunited, after fate violently separated the both of you and your godson, harry potter, managed to reveal the truth of the man who betrayed his parents.

and once again you would hold him in the deep night, now inside of grimmauld place, the very house he was raised in.

the house who saw your love being gestated in the middle of a poisoned river.

but now, you both were cleaning the violence, the traumatic memories and the haunted voices out of every wall; writing in the ceiling that a love this strong may never die.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS!! i do think the ending is awful oh my god i might change it. anyways, be safe. xoxo.

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noahsresources · 2 years ago

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DETAILS ABOUT OCS !

send an emoji/description of emoji to learn more about a writer's oc! many of these are taken from my munday asks meme, because i thought it would be fun to make a version for characters too! the prompts are categorized by emoji type and given descriptions in case anyone can't see the symbols. can be used for roleplayers and any general writers alike! for roleplayers, these can also be used for your interpretations of canon characters if you so desire as well!

𝐎𝐁𝐉��𝐂𝐓𝐒. 💭 THOUGHT BALLOON — what is your oc's MBTI, enneagram, and/or other personality aspects (if known/interested in)? 🚗 CAR — does your oc have a driver's license? can they drive/operate any automobiles/machinery besides cars? ✈️ AIRPLANE — does your oc like traveling, or do they consider themselves a more homey person? 🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your oc's favorite hobbies? 💍 RING — does your oc have any piercings? do they want any (more) piercings? 🖊️ BALLPOINT PEN — does your oc have any tattoos? do they want any (more) tattoos? 📚 BOOKS — what level of education has your oc most recently completed/is currently in (GED, undergraduate, grad school, phd, etc)? 🎻 VIOLIN — does your oc play any instruments? what is their skill level (beginner/intermediate/advanced/virtuoso/etc)? 🩹 ADHESIVE BANDAGE — does your oc have any physical and/or mental disabilities? 🩸 DROP OF BLOOD — what is your oc's blood type?

𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐒. 🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what type of music does your oc like? do they listen to music very often? 💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know. 💤 SLEEPING SIGN — is your oc a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper? how are their sleeping habits? 🔱 TRIDENT EMBLEM — can your oc swim? do they enjoy swimming? 🔺 RED TRIANGLE POINTED UP — does your oc know how to use any weapons? 🔶 LARGE ORANGE DIAMOND — does your oc know cpr? do they have any other medical expertise? 🚫 PROHIBITED — does your oc drink/smoke? do they do it regularly, or is it more on occasion or for special events?

𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄. 🌈 RAINBOW — what is your oc's sexual orientation/gender identity? what pronouns do they use? 🎄 CHRISTMAS TREE — what is your oc's favorite holiday? 🐶 DOG FACE — does your oc have any pets? 🐈 CAT — does your oc prefer a wide circle of friends or a few close friends? 🐷 PIG FACE — what is your oc's favorite animal? 🐉 DRAGON — what is your oc's favorite mythical creature? 🍃 LEAVES FLUTTERING IN WIND — what is/was your oc's favorite subject in school? 🌴 PALM TREE — does your oc have a green thumb? do they enjoy gardening? 🍎 RED APPLE — where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace?

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒. ❤️ RED HEART — what are three of your oc's positive traits? 🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits? 💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your oc's negative traits? 💘 HEART WITH ARROW — what and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them? 🧡 ORANGE HEART — does your oc tend to prioritize family or friends? 💛 YELLOW HEART — how many languages does your oc speak? what language(s) are they learning, if any? 💚 GREEN HEART — does your oc prefer being inside or outside? 💙 BLUE HEART — does your oc have any cool/special powers and/or abilities? how are they with magic, if it exists in their world? 💜 PURPLE HEART — what is your oc's ancestry/genetic background? 🖤 BLACK HEART — has your oc killed or seriously wounded anyone before? have they broken someone's heart and/or broken someone's trust?

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒. 🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE — when is your oc's birthday? how old are they? what are their sun, moon, & rising signs (if known)? what about their tarot card, ruling planet, & ruling number (if known)? do they fit the typical traits of these sun, moon, & rising signs? 🍝 SPAGHETTI — what is/are your oc's favorite food(s)? 🍰 SHORTCAKE — what is/are your oc's favorite sweet(s)/dessert(s)? 🍦 SOFT ICE CREAM — what is/are your oc's favorite ice cream flavor(s)? 🍔 HAMBURGER — is your oc good at cooking? are they good at baking? which one do they prefer? 🥯 BAGEL — what does your oc's typical breakfast look like? do they usually eat breakfast? 🥪 SANDWICH — what does your oc's typical lunch look like? do they usually eat lunch? 🍛 CURRY AND RICE — what does your oc's typical dinner look like? do they usually eat dinner? 🍸 COCKTAIL GLASS — what is your oc's favorite alcoholic drink, if they can drink? ☕️ HOT BEVERAGE — does your oc prefer coffee, tea, hot chocolate, milk, water, or some other drink? how do they like to take this drink (ex. coffee with milk, hot chocolate with whipped cream, a specific kind of tea, etc)?

𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄. 😊 SMILING FACE WITH SMILING EYES — what are your oc's career/general life desires? what do they want to get the most out of life? 😖 CONFOUNDED FACE — is your oc an introvert, an extrovert, or an ambivert? do they let people in easily, or are they more reserved? 🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms? 🧐 FACE WITH MONOCLE — is your oc more logical or emotional? 🤓 SMILING FACE WITH GLASSES — is your oc chatty or quiet? are they at ease in social situations, or are they more shy? 🤩 FACE WITH STARRY EYES — is your oc a planner, or are they more spontaneous in their actions? 😥 SAD BUT RELIEVED FACE — is your oc prone to getting stressed out, or is it easy for them to keep their cool? 😓 DOWNCAST FACE WITH SWEAT — is your oc open-minded or stubborn? are they inquisitive or do they prefer to keep to their bubble of knowledge? 😞 DISAPPOINTED FACE — does your oc attract others, or do they tend to be left alone? 🤒 FACE WITH THERMOMETER — does your oc get sick easily? 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 FAMILY WITH MOTHER, FATHER, SON AND DAUGHTER — how many people are in your oc's immediate family? how many people are in your oc's extended family? do they have aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc? who in their family are they closest with? are they close with their birth family, or do they have a found family?

#oc asks #oc ask meme #oc ask game #oc meme #ask meme #ask memes #ooc #symbols #memes #mine #200 #500 #1k #2k #3k #4k #5k #10k

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blasphemousclaw · 1 year ago

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WHO IS THIS SAULTRY LITTLE BINCH

ok this is my extremely unpolished breakdown of MESSMER THE IMPALER from the shadow of the erdtree trailer

The first thing that stands out about this dude is that he’s wearing EVERY possible symbol of treason against the Erdtree: SNAKES and FLAME

Messmer has snakes on his sigil, helm, and 2 snake friends who have dragon wings. Volcano Manor is known for its statues of winged serpents, but the wings are feathered, not dragonlike. these snakes are bright red-orange and are very unlike the Great Serpent we all know and love, who has a heavier build and is blue-grey in color.

Regarding snakes as symbolism, the Duelist Helm description reads,

“Bronze helm decorated with innumerable snakes. Worn by gladiators who were driven from the colosseum. The wearer becomes a slightly easier target for foes. The snake is viewed as a traitor to the Erdtree, and the audience delighted in seeing these bronze effigies beaten and battered.”

We can bet that whoever is associating themselves with snakes is a confirmed Erdtree hater (Rykard, hello!!!) or perhaps, this dude could even be part of the reason why snakes are considered traitorous in the first place?

In addition to us seeing Messmer wield fire, this line from the trailer (which I think is spoken about Messmer but not by Messmer) implies that he’s known for his fire: “Those stripped of the Grace of Gold shall all meet death. In the embrace of Messmer’s flame.”

It’s well known that flame is in many ways a taboo power; particularly the flame of the Fell God, which has the power to burn the Erdtree (the cardinal sin). Messmer’s fire is weird, in some ways it reminds me of the Rune of Death since it starts out black and turns red, but it’s also far too orange to simply be the Rune of Death’s power.

There’s also this description of the DLC: “The Land of Shadow. A place obscured by the Erdtree. Where the goddess Marika first set foot. A land purged in an unsung battle. Set ablaze by Messmer’s flame.”

I’d guess that the Land of Shadow was the place of Marika’s first conquest, and perhaps Messmer either aided her in razing it or that’s just something he did later?

so WHO is this dude????

for starters, his name is Messmer the Impaler — M like Marika! Melina, Malenia, Miquella, Mogh, and Morgott. seems to be a pattern...

He says in the trailer, “Mother, wouldst thou truly Lordship sanction, in one so bereft of light?”

Whoever Messmer’s mother is, she is in a position to “sanction lordship” meaning to give official permission for a lordship to take place. that screams Marika — she is THE goddess, and is responsible for guiding Tarnished to becoming Elden Lord. I can’t think of anyone else who might be called Mother who is in such a position as to allow someone to ascend to the position of Lord. He's also sitting in the same type of throne that the demigods sat in that we see in Morgott's cutscene.

theres 2 ways to interpret this line:

Messmer could referring to himself when he says this; as if he’s saying, would my mother truly allow me to become Lord even though I’m so dark and edgy?? in a kind of sarcastic way. the flames he produces start out black, and he’s covered himself symbols treasonous to the Erdtree. OR, he’s referring to us, the Tarnished, when he says this; as if he’s saying, would you really let a person with such little light inside them become lord, mother?? (rude!) I’d say we need more context to determine exactly what he means

ALSO, interestingly, his left eye is sealed shut… you know who else has their left eye sealed shut? THAT’S RIGHT… OUR FRIENDS MELINA AND RANNI

The scarseal and soreseal items of Marika and Radagon are also carved into eyeballs… could eye trauma be an empyrean trait?? could Messmer also be an empyrean, one who the current demigods didn’t know the existence of???

with all that being said, I really doubt that this guy is Rykard or Rykard’s child as I’ve seen some people speculate… these other clues in the trailer point towards him being another, separate demigod. so what do we make of all the similar imagery?? I think that Messmer might be working against the Erdtree toward his own ends, and he’s embracing similar powers that Rykard did when he turned traitor.

who is he then? I think he’s a demigod child of Marika, and possibly of Radagon because of the hair (unless his hair color comes elsewhere? a curse?). I think he got banished to the shadow realm for treason reasons, given the heretical symbols. perhaps he was an empyrean with his own agenda who was disposed of by Marika, like the Gloam Eyed Queen? perhaps he has ambitions to return to the real world and become Lord, destroying the Tarnished who might take his throne?

I did this instead of sleeping I hope you’re all happy

#elden ring #elden ring dlc #shadow of the erdtree #messmer the impaler #messmer #elden ring lore #ok now ive got that out of my system i can go about my day

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mothking-rising · 13 days ago

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Got a rude response from someone I reblogged from so I'm making my own post about Ice Flight because um--

Hey Ice Flight can be pretty cool actually and be different from the rest of the flights, and this post is gonna be my two cents about it. I've seen people go around just summing it up as "cops" when just like every other Flight they can be so much more?

While first, I do agree that Ice’s aesthetic is kinda weak as is. Not a lot you can do with the same winter themes over and over with the occasional broken chain motif. I’d love to see people get creative to what they think Ice represents and how they contribute to Sornieth’s systems, cultures, and dragons as a whole.

I see ice flight specializing in stuff like collection and cataloguing as iirc before the map update it said those were things Ice Flight likes. I think where Earth is Uncovering What Was, Ice is about Preserving What Is.

They’re not entirely just cops (and even then stripping them to just the role of "cop" is a bad take). They’re also researchers of the things they fear, and of relics that need studying. In my head Ice would probably have the best museums, archives, and storage houses. What better way to preserve or trap something than in ice?

They’re a flight of Order, not so much in the sense of cops and law but a flight that bulks when there’s a sense of disorder or chaos, disorganization, and imperfection. If it’s uncategorized, unsorted, then it needs to be so in order to be learned. Where Lightning is stats and progression, Ice is pattern recognition (Tundra’s memory being linked to their smell may also reflect this) and tradition (Gaolers role system and lack of awareness about the state of Sornieth and not just the Ice Fields).

This can be extended then into interests, individual home cultures, businesses and what not. Why not start a collection of rocks? Or insects? They’d know best how to preserve it. Need something specific from the shop? Probably very easy to find if you know the qualities and traits you’re looking for. Need something preserved for safe keeping? They’ll do that, and they’ll do it awfully well. Perfectly. The systems have to be perfect. The line up has to be perfect and up-kept and looked after intensely— possibly so intense it’s evolving into passion. There can certainly be a sense of pride.

Combine with the lore that Ice is typically more hostile to outsiders due to their melting home I can see them being much more traditional and closed off. Not quite isolated, but having a more unique culture that’s a little more closed off from others and not quite as shared, trying to preserve what is left of their home and traditions.

What about urban legends and superstition? They’re guarding creatures and horrors in those prisons, surely the local resident dragons have folklore over that? What about fishing and hunting, two very popular ways to get food or supplies in climates like these? Where are the ice fisherman skins or hunters bound in furs? What about the fauna or flora found in the region we can probably make skins for that too.

Existential horror can also be fun; remember, relatively recently Gaolers learned that Sornieth has changed. Dragons of other flights have other magic not native to their elements and in addition the age old threat of Shade that seems to be making new problems for new times.

We have a flight literally dealing first hand with monsters and horrors existing already on the planet and in its own prisons and fighting against it, yet people relegate that to Arcane. 😔 Unlike Arcane, the unknown is already here in Ice.

You could easily take inspiration from the movie The Thing, too. It writes itself ngl.

Theres much to do and think about with Ice when you remember this is a region with its own people and culture and not just an aesthetic, and I’d like to see it dabbled in more. Even if it’s just headcanon, you can make it into a skin. That’s what people have done with Light with the whole angelic themes, so why not take creative spins on ice too?

Give ice some headcanon love like y’all do with Arcane and Light. Those flights aren’t about eldritch horror or angels but there’s endless skins for them about it. Give ice some of that same ole love too 💕

#flight rising #ice flight #flight rising lore #ice #flight rising ice flight

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targaryenimagines · 7 months ago

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Twin Flames

Dark!Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 8,219

Summary: With your due date drawing nearer, you begin to wonder what sort of life you’re going to be bringing into the world; dealing with your constantly fluctuating emotions is easier than facing the thoughts that grace your mind during the midnight hours. You should have known it’d only be a matter of time before your dragon became aware.

Warning(s): G!P Daenerys, grief, self worth issues, allusions to sex, and descriptions of labor/childbirth (non-graphic).

Notes: This shifted around from what I had initially planned, but I can’t say that I’m upset with how it turned out! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it for you all! Thank you to @justyourwritter69 for the wonderful inspiration — it may not be exactly what you had been thinking of, but I hope you like it all the same!

Series Masterlist

Warm palms run up the sides of your heaving body — still coiled tightly from the last shockwaves of ecstasy passing through — pulling you ever closer, even as a light laugh is hidden in the crook of your neck, the large grin stretched across your wife’s lips being more than apparent when she nuzzles the sweaty expanse of skin.

“I have to admit,” Daenerys pants, pressing one last lingering kiss to the underside of your jaw, before pulling back to peer down at you: silvery-gold hair acting as a curtain, cutting off the rest of the world entirely. “You might be starting to wear me out, dearest one.”

You arch a brow, legs opening to allow for Daenerys to comfortably settle once more between them; the heat radiating from her back, when you stroke a gentle finger down the length of her spine, offering a sense of comfort that no quilt ever could. “I wasn’t aware that was a possibility,” you tease, a lightness to your tone that caused Daenerys’ own smile to grow that much more. “In fact, I believe it was you who kept me up all night in Meereen. Because, and I quote, you wanted to watch the sun set and rise while being inside of me.” A huff of laughter falls from your lips. “Where has that woman gone to?”

Violet eyes roll skyward, but the open fondness within her gaze, and the bone-deep adoration etched across her face, never wavers in the slightest. “She’s still here, ñuha perzys. Very much so.” As if to prove her point, Daenerys ruts softly against you; letting you feel the extent of the influence you had upon her body. “But I can’t do all of the things I wish to do to you. Not when you’re carrying such precious cargo.”

A brilliant grin stretches across your face at the reminder — even as one of Daenerys’ palms slides from its place on your hip to the growing swell of your abdomen.

Precious cargo, you muse, taking in the sight of your Khaleesi’s peaceful expression. Your twins.

It had come as quite a shock to you when you discovered that you could potentially be having twins from the Palace Healer; a wave of complex emotions crashing over you as Daenerys had puffed up at the thought. It’s a trait you couldn’t help but admire in your wife. You had only ever seen her truly shaken a few times in your long relationship, even when she was the young would-be conqueror trying to find her way in the world, she rarely ever allowed herself to fall.

So, while you were swept into the tide of varying emotions, Daenerys stood as a sturdy rock beside you, preening with pride and jubilation at the fact that she’d soon have two more children to love, to adore, to protect.

In a manner she wasn’t able to before. A thought that had caused a spike of pain to lance through your heart, squeezing at your lungs to stifle the air that your two children would never be able to breathe again; Viserion and Rhaegal were never far from your mind. The golden gleam of the sun hitting the Narrow Sea reminded you of the warmth within Viserion’s aureate gaze, the pristine white of your wedding dress reminiscent of his beautiful scales. Whereas the changing seasons, from the cold winter months to the tentative grasp of spring, brought with it the memory of Rhaegal’s emerald-hued wings stretched across you in a protective embrace, the rumbling of thunder on the horizon, as a summer storm rolled in, bringing back the resounding echoes of his fiery roar to the forefront of your memory.

You knew, deep within your heart, that as long as their memory lived on within you, within Daenerys, and the people that they had graced with their presence, they’d never be truly gone.

Even though you wanted nothing more than for them to be here: to see three shadows flying over King’s Landing, to hear their roars echo along with Drogon’s, to feel the warmth of their bond within your very soul.

Their absence, as your pregnancy delved into the final months, became more apparent with each passing moment. You wished, more than anything, that you could share the kindling of new life with your darling Prūmia and Bāne; knowing that Drogon, your Mīsio, would find comfort from them as well. Instead, he now carried the burden of being an elder brother completely alone.

What was once three, is now only one…

The dragon is supposed to have three heads, but what do you do when two have been ripped away?

If you couldn’t protect Viserion and Rhaegal, mystical beasts from the oldest tales of Westeros, descendants of the mighty creatures of Old Valyria, then how would you ever be able to do so for your twins?

How could you be a proper mother when you’ve already failed so greatly?

“Where have you gone in that beautiful head of yours?” The gentle question pulls you from your torrential thoughts, unfocused eyes snapping to look into a calming violet gaze. At the sight a small smile quirks Daenerys’ lips, but you can detect the worry glimmering just beneath the surface. “There you are.”

You muster up a small smile, knowing that it was lackluster by the way Daenerys' frown seems to grow. "Here I am," you joke. "I was just lost in my thoughts, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worried."

"I will always worry about you," Daenerys replies. "As long as my enemies walk this world, and something can cause harm to you, then I will continue to be worried. That's what you do for the people you love."

"Really?" Silken skin meets your fingertips as you gently trace a line from high cheekbones, down to a sharp jawline, to full lips, and back again. "I wasn't aware I ranked so highly on your list of priorities, Khaleesi."

Violet eyes narrow at the blatant teasing. "I don't have a list of priorities." You almost laugh at the petulant pout that overtakes your wife's face. "It's true, beloved."

"I don't think that's true, Daenerys." You begin to count on your fingers. "You have the Seven Kingdoms. You have your armies. You have the whole mess with the Stark's. You have--"

Soft lips do a great job at shutting you up, an expert tongue acting in a great supporting role to make you boneless beneath the commanding form of your wife, as nimble fingers curl through the strands of your still sex-mussed hair. "Nothing," she whispers hotly against your mouth, warm breath still mingling with your own. "Will ever be more important than you. The Iron Throne means nothing to me if I don't have you by my side while I rule. My armies mean nothing if I do not have you to defend. This right here?" Daenerys rubs her nose against your own, smoothing a hand down the swell of your belly. "Our family that you've blessed me with, our son that's been ravenously waiting for his little siblings, is all that I could ever want. Nothing will ever be more of a priority to me than my family."

You allow your Khaleesi to hold you close for a moment, at peace within her strong embrace, but soon the need to rile her up once more overtakes you. "All of those things you just mentioned are priorities to you?" Daenerys hums in agreement, having shifted over onto her back to allow you a better position to rest upon her chest, slender fingers now gently carding through your hair to untangle some of the strands. "Wouldn't you call that a list, Khaleesi?"

Daenerys' answering chuckle rumbles through her beneath your ear, her fingers never halting in their soothing motion, as she pulls you impossibly closer to her lithe form. "No, I wouldn't call it a list. A list makes it sound militaristic, cold, unfeeling, and that's the exact opposite of how I feel." She peers down at you through dark lashes, full lips quirked in adoration. "I call it the very reason for my next breath, the reason that my heart will continue beating, and the sole purpose that I'll never lose my fire to continue fighting for a better future."

Silence falls then — both being soothed by the company of the other; you by the steady beat of Dany's heart beneath your ear and Daenerys by the heat of your body curled against her own. You could even feel yourself beginning to fall asleep, something you're hoping will last till morning, before a need fills you once more. This time, instead of being one to tease your dragon, it's one to reaffirm that her adoration, her love, was more than reciprocated.

"You're everything to me, Dany," you sigh, nuzzling into warm skin. "I just want you to know how much you mean to me."

"And you, my dearest flame, are the big house with the red door and the lemon tree." Her arms tighten around you, her last words whispered against the crown of your head as you drift off into sleep. "I'm no longer lost when I look back. You helped me accept my past, embrace my present, and look forward to my future."

It’s only hours later, when your wife is nestled closely to you, a lithe arm wrapped around your abdomen in a protective embrace, that you finally give up on your battle to find sleep. You had hoped, as you had the many nights prior, that Daenerys would tire you out to the point that you could fall into dreamless sleep from sheer exhaustion; something that typically worked.

But no one, not even your dragon, could maintain that level of vigor at night coupled with being Queen of Westeros during the day; although she made a valiant effort, certainly better than anyone else could hope to accomplish.

Refraining from making too much noise, even if it was to just sigh, you slowly edge your way from underneath your dragon's arm — something that's a lot easier in theory, even if you had been doing it more and more recently as sleep continued to elude you — almost panicking when Daenerys tightened her hold, grumbling something against the nape of your neck, before she slackened once more.

Slipping from the bed, after ensuring that Daenerys had truly fallen back asleep, you carefully maneuver around the room, slipping on a discarded tunic that you vaguely recall Daenerys wearing upon entering your shared chambers after dinner — having quickly shed her clothing to take a much-needed bath after the arduous day.

Following your usual route, you find yourself standing on the overhanging balcony that let you see King's Landing in its entirety as well as the harbor twinkling softly in the night. It's on nights like this, when the moon is bright and the stars are twinkling, that you have the most trouble falling asleep. On stormy, or simply overcast, nights you didn't ache deep within your bones, but when the world unveiled itself in its natural state of beauty?

It's like having shards of glass travel down your throat every time you took a breath. Memories of nights underneath a different starry sky, in arid deserts and ancient cities, wherein Viserion and Rhaegal danced across the sky like they were trying to join the very stars themselves — always testing to see who could fly higher.

Looking up now, at the stars shining so brilliantly, you can't help but wonder if they were up there now? If they had finally made it in their pursuit to see who could make it to the top. You wonder if Viserion had saved a special spot for Rhaegal... You wonder if he was currently saving spots for you all...

Tears blur your vision, distorting the sky into a hazy blob of black and silver, and you hope, that wherever they may be now, that they were happy. That they were safe and loved in a way they always deserved to be treated.

Could they see you now?

Could they hear the way your heart cried out for them?

Did they know how much you missed them?

Did they know how much you love them still? How much you will always love them?

Did they know how much darker the world had become since their light was taken away?

"What are you doing out here, ñuha perzys?"

No, your mind cries out. Why tonight, of all nights, did she have to wake up?

"Beloved?"

You hesitated in turning to look at her, knowing that the moment you did you'd be caught, but the longer you waited, the longer you stalled, the more Daenerys would become agitated, her protective instincts flaring into life. There's no way for you to get out of this... Not without the conversation you've been desperately trying to avoid.

So, with a soft sigh, you turn to face the love of your life; being met with the adorably disgruntled form of Daenerys Targaryen: clad in only a rumpled robe that had been thrown across a vanity due to her haste to have you hours before.

"Dany."

Daenerys rarely had to ask you what was plaguing your mind when it became like this — her ability to read you like a book coming in handy — and, for a brief moment, you're glad that you won't have to explain it to her. Explain to her how much of a failure you felt like you were. How your fears of becoming a mother were amplified because you had failed so spectacularly before.

Violet eyes observe you for another moment, darkening with an untold emotion, before something seems to shift inside of her.

"Do you blame me?" The question is uttered softly, on a hesitant breath, that is the complete opposite of your veracious wife. "Do you?"

You shake your head. "Blame you for what, Dany?"

Please don't know, please don't know, please--

"Viserion and Rhaegal."

The mention of their names, coupled with the latent thoughts still swirling within the dark recesses of your mind, causes you to flinch, arms instinctively tightening around yourself in a protective hold. An action that Daenerys must have taken as a positive answer to her question; if the almost injured look that's now openly expressed across her beautiful face is anything to go by.

"We've had this discussion before, Daenerys," you murmur, not wishing to rehash harsh words and reopen still barely healed wounds. "I don't blame you for Viserion. Not anymore."

Daenerys winces at the reminder of what had occurred in Dragonstone all those moons ago. "But you did." It's not a question. There's no need for pleasant lies when in the face of your soulmate. "Who's to say that you don't again? I wouldn't blame you if you did. It was my fault to listen to my advisors instead of my instincts. It was my fault to agree to send Jon Snow beyond the Wall with Jorah. It was my decision to go after them completely alone. It was my own stupidity that led me to turn my back on everything that I learned, everything that I had become in order to get to where I am now." She steps closer to you, unshed tears causing violet eyes to shimmer like untouched amethysts in the argent light of the moon. "It was all because of me that Viserion was struck down in an icy hellscape. Where he was forced to become enslaved to that thing. It was because of me that our son, our youngest child, had his fire drowned by ice."

Your eyes shutter shut at the memories her words invoke. Flashes of icy blue eyes where there should have been gentle gold viciously cycle within your head as you try to forget the brokenly shattered form of your son that you had found after the Battle of Winterfell.

"Not to mention Rhaegal," Daenerys continues, angry spite, all of it directed at herself, hardening her tone. "If I had paid more attention, if I had kept him closer to me, if I had been more cognizant that Euron would have been lurking in the waters below, then he would still be with us. You wouldn't have had to watch as he fell from the sky, you wouldn't have been bathed red by specks of his blood, you wouldn't have had to use milk of the poppy or dreamwine in order to fall asleep because you had such bad nightmares. You wouldn't have suffered if it wasn't for me. Our children would still be alive if it wasn't for me."

Even if some of what she said held merit — others being beliefs you had held onto just to inflict pain onto her; not unlike the pain you had felt when dealing with the unending grief — you refused to let her drown within her pain, refuse to let Daenerys' light get snuffed out. Not when she had been your steady rock for so long, your guiding light to bring you home, the only reason you had been able to pull yourself from the dark abyss their deaths had caused.

"No," you rebuke, tone firm. "I don't blame you, Daenerys. The Night King killed Viserion. The Night King is the reason our beautiful boy was trapped in an unending purgatory instead of the peaceful death he deserved. Rhaegal—" Pausing, lips pressed into a thin line, you take a shuddering breath before pressing on. "We didn't see Euron's fleet either. We were all aware of the potential risks he posed, but none of us took the proper precautions. Rhaegal, what happened to him, and what occurred afterwards, wasn't solely on you, Dany. You were foolish, I won't pretend that you weren't, but you were trying to make too many people happy, trying so hard to be the ruler that they all wanted you to be, instead of being the queen you were always meant to be. You got lost, Dany, and while the price we paid was high, and I don't think the pain will ever fully disappear, I'm just happy you were able to find yourself in some manner in the end." You step closer to your darling dragon, pressing a reverent hand to a flushed cheek. "So, no, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, I don't blame you for the deaths of our children."

Daenerys simply stares at you for a moment, her gaze almost inscrutable, but you can see the light beginning to return, even as her lips downturn slightly. "Then why do you blame yourself?"

No answer is forthcoming even as a thousand more spring to mind.

How could I not be? I didn't speak up; I saw what was happening and didn't do anything. I wasn't the partner you deserved, Daenerys, not like the one you have been to me and, because of that, because I couldn't find it within myself to just fucking speak up, our sons were killed...

How could I not be responsible when I still remember the sounds of Viserion's distorted roar and Rhaegal's scream of agony?

How could I not be when I'm still haunted by their faces every damn day?

You know that you couldn't say any of those things — Daenerys would probably blow a fuse — but the look within your wife's gaze let you know that she wasn't going to let you off the hook quite yet.

"I don't know," you admit, shoulders slumping as you turn from her inquisitive stare. "I don't know. Are you happy?"

The warm presence of your wife settles before you, standing closer than she had since the entire discussion had begun. "Of course, I'm not happy. You're in pain." Slender fingers gently grasping your face to turn your head to look at her. "It's something I will never enjoy seeing, but I want you understand me when I say this." Daenerys' eyes sharpen, violet pools burning with an inner fire that bespoke of her bloodline. "You need to stop wondering what might have been. It's something I couldn't stop doing, something that I still struggle with on occasion, but it will only make it so that you miss what's happening now. Viserion and Rhaegal are gone, which is something that will never leave us, but to only carry the darkness around with us would be a disservice to the light they had brought into our lives. They're gone, but they'll never be forgotten, because we won't let that happen. So, please, don't blame yourself any longer for something you can't change. Not if you won't let me share that blame alongside you." She steps closer, always drawn like a moth to a flame when you're near. "I promised to protect you from everything when I took you as my wife, to love and hold you through any storm that may come, to weather any battle that'll mean you'll be okay. Even if that means contending with the beasts that lurk within your beautiful mind. I know it's hard, my beloved, but I can't stand not knowing when you're in pain. Not if there's something I can do about. So, please, don't shut me out even if you think you're protecting me by doing so."

You nod, heart twisting at her soulful plea. "I'll try."

Even if you don't know how you'll accomplish it...

"That's all I'll ever ask for."

There's a moment of silence — wherein only the world dares intertwine within the moment you were now sharing with your dragon — before Dany gently smiles at you, love and adoration etching themselves across her face in an open mural of her devotion towards you.

“Come back to bed.” Daenerys reaches out for you, her hands slightly chilled by the night air when your own slots perfectly in place. “You know how I hate the emptiness when you're not there.”

Fighting the urge to smile, you follow your wife back from the balcony into the spacious bedchamber you’ve made into your haven, and you're not surprised in the slightest when Daenerys flops down onto her back, arms wide open in a silent invitation for you to take your rightful place between them.

This time, when you fell into your dragon's embrace, the warmth of your bed surrounding you, though never standing a chance against the heat of your wife, you knew, in that moment, that you'd finally be able to sleep.

Even if it took a while for your mind to finally catch up with what your body needed.

You’re not sure when you had fallen asleep, but suddenly awakening, standing on a sunlit coast that was all too familiar, with the sound of sea birds and crashing waves surrounding you, gave you the impression that you had at some point.

Either that or you were finally going insane.

Turning in place, you take in the sights, the smells, and the sounds of a world that you hadn’t believed you’d ever return to; even if Essos was simply across the Narrow Sea, you don’t think you’d ever be able to see it the same way again. Not after everything that’s happened.

Still, even now, you couldn’t deny that the sight of the Great Pyramid, far off into the distance, didn’t elicit some bone-deep reaction within you. Memories of easier times flickering through your mind — even as the faces of the ones you lost threaten to overwhelm you — allowing for a small smile to stretch across your lips.

A smile that turns into a full blown grin the moment you crane your neck to look at the azure sky and see two familiar shapes circling overhead; Viserion and Rhaegal. Their wings beat rhythmically, creating a soft, soothing sound that echoes across the peaceful landscape as they begin to descend. The sight of them, at the ease in which they danced upon the wind, and around the other, brings a tug of longing to your heart; wishing, more than anything, that this wasn’t a dream. That you’d be able to see it when you awakened.

Landing with a soft thump, a small spray of golden sand showering over your feet, their massive forms tower over you, but you weren’t intimidated for a moment; not when they radiated an aura of warmth and familiarity.

Viserion approaches first, cream colored scales shimmering brilliantly in the sunlight, causing the golden accents to almost appear like flames, and nudges you gently with his snout, a gesture of recognition and affection. Pressing a hand to his cheek, almost crying at the feeling of his sun-soaked pebbled scales, you look into his gleaming golden eyes, a feeling of absolution settling over you as you realize that the icy blue wouldn’t be the last color you witnessed any longer.

Rhaegal, not to be outdone by his younger brother, soon approaches; emerald scales gleam like precious gems as the bronze hues brings with it the thought of your countless hours laying in a field watching him dip and dive in the wind. Tears, that had been gathering from the moment you saw your sons in the air, begin to fall down your cheeks, a sob being stifled in your throat, as you press your hands into both of their cheeks; wanting to be reassured that they were actually there. That they wouldn’t just vanish and leave you bereft once more.

“I miss you both so much,” you whisper, throat still tight from the efforts of keeping your sobs at bay. Their soft croons in response, large heads nuzzling closer to the warmth you provided, nearly being your undoing. “I’m sorry that I failed you. That I wasn’t able to protect you.”

They both let loose short rumbles in response; clearly not agreeing with your evaluation of your past deeds. Rhaegal nudges you with his head, forcing you to take a step back, as he and Viserion seem to have a silent conversation with the other. A sight that brings a small furrow to your brow, but you're not able to say, or do, anything before the world seems to tilt on its axis and everything blurs together. Your stomach lurching at the suddenness of solid ground, and a miasma of colors, as everything seems to settle once more.

Well... almost settled, you think, casting a quick glance to the world around you; noting, with a sinking feeling in your gut, that your sons were nowhere to be found, but that wasn't the only thing that had captured your attention.

Gone were the shrieking of the gulls, the warmth of the sand beneath your feet, the almost sweet scent upon the wind; now you stood at the precipice of a cliff you hadn’t been to since Daenerys had claimed King’s Landing — a place that’d forever haunt you.

Dragonstone…

The air is unusually still, carrying an otherworldly scent of sea salt and dragon fire. The sky above is a swirling canvas of deep purples and oranges, with stars twinkling faintly through the wisps of clouds; an almost dizzying shift from the golden sunlight, crystalline skies, and a warm ocean breeze.

Beneath your feet, waves crash against the rocks with an unparalleled intensity, sending sprays of foam into the air. You didn’t have to look behind you to know that the ancient castle was looming; towers reaching towards the sky as if to grasp what the owners had lost in the years since the dragons vanished.

Twin thumps, and rush of air that ruffles your hair, is all the warning you receive that your sons had arrived.

“Why are we here?”

You didn’t have the heart, or the strength of will, to ask all of the other questions plaguing your mind: Is this my punishment for failing you both? To be forever trapped in the place that I had last seen you? Happy. Whole. Together.

Viserion’s warm head bumps against your side, a small croon bubbling from deep within his throat; it was a sound he always used to make when he wished to go flying, or wanted you to scratch just a bit to the left, or simply because he wished for you attention, for your love.

You laugh wetly, fighting a losing battle in keeping your tears at bay. “I know you dragons are beasts that'll never be fully understood, but I’d like a straight answer at least once.”

None was forthcoming — not from Viserion, whose gentle gaze never wavered from where he had curled his neck around your body, nor from Rhaegal, who had decided to rest on the opposite side, bracketing you within their warmth, keeping you from the cold, harsh wind of the surf — but, in that moment, you realized all you needed to know.

It's a realization that barely registered before Viserion confirms it for you, pressing a warm snout against the clothed area of your abdomen — a place that had once been flat, now round with the promise of new life — and you feel your twins instantly react to his presence. A fact that causes Viserion to snort happily and for Rhaegal to finally raise his head to nuzzle closer; a position that you had been in numerous times before, wedged between your youngest boys while Drogon was off with Daenerys. The bittersweet twang that this moment causes makes you want to never leave, to never get up from the warmth that they had always provided.

Knowing, that when you woke up, you'd be without them once more.

Memories of the last time you had been on this cliff, watching the sun cast a miasma of colors across the Westerosi sky, as Dothraki and Unsullied soldiers worked on the sands far below, assault you in a vicious attack; echoes of Viserion's playful chortling as Rhaegal snarled in response to his brother's continued insistence to steal some of his food. A squabble the two had grown accustomed to having — one you had grown used to overseeing — that never escalated past the first few nips; wherein you'd finally step in and give Viserion the rest of whatever you had on hand.

You remember, with sharp clarity, the way the sun had cast an almost angelic aura within Viserion's kind eyes and the way in which it brought out the darker green hues within Rhaegal's hide.

You remember the serenity you had felt watching Drogon dip and weave across the bay, leaning up against Viserion's warm side with Rhaegal's large head nestled close to your lap.

You remember the sounds of raised voices, that you had previously ignored when they graced your ears through the whistling wind, growing closer; Tyrion's exasperation and Daenerys' calm nonchalance finally keying you into the severity of what was occurring.

You remember your own objections being raised when Daenerys had told you her plan — worry and fear nearly choking you. For her. For your children. For what it could mean for her men if something were to happen. For the future that you weren't ready to live without her in.

You remember the gentle kiss and promise that she had bestowed on you before mounting Drogon: "I will be back soon. You'll be cuddled up with our children and me before you know it."

You remember the warmth of Viserion's cheek as you caressed his pebbled scales, the way your hair blew back when Rhaegal huffed as you leant to kiss his nose, and the amused look within Drogon's crimson gaze when you scratched under his chin.

You remember the heavy feeling in your chest nearly crushing you as you watched all three, along with your Khaleesi, disappear into the horizon.

And, above it all, you remember the look within violet eyes upon Daenerys' return, her pleading words when you looked out into the bay expecting to see three forms but instead saw only two, the distance that had grown between you as you dealt with your grief, the pain that kept you up at night, the regret that hung over you for not speaking up, and that same weight bearing down onto you.

You can't even bear to look out towards the open water now where Rhaegal had fallen, where his emerald scales had been stained forever crimson, and the sounds of his cries still haunted your dreams; your darling boy, your Bāne, always so hotheaded, disappearing beneath frothing water... Simply gone before you could even blink.

Both gone before you could...

The sudden realization of why you're here, why Viserion and Rhaegal were nestled so close to you, finally clicked into place and, with that realization, your tears finally cascaded down your cheeks.

"To say goodbye." You look down into their eyes, one set gold and the other bronze, as tears continue to fall from your own. "That's why I'm here. You're letting me say goodbye."

Twin rumbles meet your declaration, large heads pushing closer as they gently nuzzle your growing stomach. A sight that you would do anything to see in real life — knowing, with everything you had, that they would have made the best big brothers. Smoothing a hand down Rhaegal's jaw, and then shifting to Viserion, you lean closer and allow yourself to be fully wrapped in their embrace.

"I wish that I could go back and hold you both a bit longer. Give you a bit more of the fish I had stolen from the kitchen. Stayed a little bit longer snuggled into your side as I read. I wish that I could get all those little moments back and hold them tightly, so I'd never lose them, never lose you." Rhaegal nudges your shoulder, causing a watery chuckle to escape from your lips. "But, above anything, I wish that I had been able to show you both how much I loved you as fiercely, and as loyally, as you loved me, because I would have died to protect you. I would have gladly sacrificed myself so you both could live."

Shifting back, you look at your darling boys, never letting your hands stray too far from the warmth of their scales. "I want you to know how much I love you, how much I will always love you, and that you'll never be far from my heart. No matter how much time passes, I will never forget either of you. I will never forget the moments we made together and the love you freely gave me. I will never forget what you both have done for me." You lightly place a kiss on both of their snouts. "Goodbye, my darling boys, for the next time I see you, I won't be leaving your sides ever again."

Viserion and Rhaegal press closer, their wings stretching out further to eclipse the very sky above you; casting the diluted light into a fractured array of bronze and gold coloring. The sight bringing you peace as the beginnings of the world starts to blur at the edge of your vision.

And, even as everything fades into grey around you — the twin gazes, one gold and the other bronze, act as a beacon of light to where you were meant to go.

Rain hammers against tall windows, accompanied by the occasional flash of lightning that illuminates the grand tapestries on the walls within the royal bedchamber; the air heavy with the scent of salt and sea, mingling with the sweet incense burned by the attending septas.

You don’t know what had caused you to feel the sudden urge to travel to Dragonstone, remnants of a hazy memory being your only clue; as you rarely left King’s Landing since the news of the impending heirs became public knowledge. Daenerys hadn’t been happy about the potential trip — the way in which she had grit her teeth almost made you believe she was about to spit fire — but something in your eyes must have given her the impression that you weren’t going to back down.

Her acceptance didn’t mean it was an easy trip — with Daenerys’ constant hovering, Drogon snapping at anyone that got too close, and Grey Worm almost stabbing three maids that had suddenly appeared to help you out of the days outfit, being the lightest of the events that had occurred — but the sight of the ancient castle, with its dark spires reaching out to seemingly conquer the sky itself, brought with it a wave of relief that nearly keeled you over; the pressure within your heart clicking into place, making everything right once more.

Everything had gone smoothly for the first five days of your spontaneous vacation, but things had almost imploded when Daenerys had been told, via a raven, her presence was needed in King’s Landing due to a few of the minor noble families stirring up trouble with the visiting dignitaries from Essos. You knew that your wife didn’t wish to leave you, not so late into your pregnancy, nor did your son, but escalating drama within King’s Landing — one Daenerys wanted you far away from — compelled her to shift from doting wife to Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

She had left the next morning, with a searing kiss pressed to your lips, arms wrapped tight around your form, and a whispered vow seemingly imprinted into your skin: “I will be back within the next two days, I swear it. Even if that means I have to kill every last person that would dare keep me from you.”

Which means it was only right that you’d go into labor on the end of the second day; a raging storm, the likes that hadn’t been seen since your darling wife had been born, crashing over Dragonstone.

“Daenerys still isn’t here?” You gasp, a strangled groan escaping you at the same time. “Shouldn’t she be here by now?”

Grey Worm stands by your side, his sharp features etched with concern. “No, Your Grace, but I know she’ll arrive soon. Even with this weather I’m certain the raven will have reached her by now. For the moment, until Her Majesty can be here, I implore you to focus on yourself.” His rough hand clutch yours, offering what little warmth and reassurance he can. “I’ll be by your side until then.”

The maester, with his wispy beard and trembling hands, no doubt aware of what would happen to him if something were to go wrong, moves between your legs, his voice steady despite the chaos outside. “Push now, gently,” he instructs, his soft tone a sharp contrast to the tempestuous night.

You follow his guidance, clutching at Grey Worm’s proffered hand, summoning every ounce of strength left within your body.

The ancient stones of Dragonstone seem to tremble in response to each clap of thunder, as if the very castle shared in your agony. Yet, amidst the roaring winds and pain — a single strike of clarity, not unlike the lightning streaking through the sky, hits you; a profound sense of determination racing through your haggard form, burrowing deep within your heart, to bring life into this world, despite the raging storm and the absence of your wife.

Gritting your teeth, an agonized cry tears itself from deep within your chest, as you push once more, only faintly hearing the guiding words of the maester.

And, just as another streak of lightning illuminated the sky, Daenerys stormed into the room, her presence commanding and urgent; violet eyes burning with residual fury at being held up, and silvery-gold hair slightly disheveled, betraying the haste in which she had arrived to Dragonstone.

Where she is, Drogon is sure to quickly follow, you think, warmth spreading through you at the sight of your wife and the knowledge your son was home. And, just as the thought crosses your mind, a familiar shadow casts itself over the room, thundering wing-beats being easily discernible from the crackling lightning. No matter how tired he may have been from his long journey, Drogon would stay outside until you brought the twins into this world; a thought that brings a wave of affection for your eldest crashing through you.

“I’m here,” Daenerys announced, voice strained in apology but her relief was palpable as she made her way to your side; taking the spot that Grey Worm had quickly vacated. Pressing a kiss to the hand clasped in hers, Daenerys brushes a sweat-soaked strand of hair from your overheated forehead. “I’m sorry I’m late. I wanted nothing more than to be back by your side the moment I left it.”

You’re only able to offer her a strained smile in response, another wave of pain shooting through you as the maester continues guiding the process along.

Daenerys, easily taking note of your state, turns wild eyes to the gathered servants. “How is she? How far along are we?” The strained quality of her voice, coupled with the vice grip she has upon your hand, gives you an easy understanding of where your wife’s mind had went; to the night of her own birth in this very castle — a night where Daenerys Targaryen was borne but Rhaella Targaryen ceased to exist. “Has there been any issues?”

“No, Your Majesty.” A midwife helpfully supplies, her presence near the bed signifying that you’d hopefully bringing one of your twins into the world soon. “Everything has gone well. Her Majesty has been doing well. There’s no cause for alarm.”

Daenerys, while still stiff, seemed to accept the response, her attention swiftly falling to you solely. “I’m right here, my beloved. I’m not going anywhere.”

Time seems to stretch into an eternity — you’re barely able to discern Daenerys gentle hold, and soothing words, from the maester that was still acting as a guiding light — and the pain is almost stifling until, with one final push, the first of your twins enters the world.

Exhausted, yet elated at the same time, you watch, through bleary eyes, as a midwife quickly takes the babe into her arms to clean, only giving you the barest glimpse of a tiny form before disappearing into the swarm of moving bodies.

But, however much your body may rebel at the thought, the labor wasn’t over yet; another wave of pain crashing over you, ensured that you understood that fact. With every bit of strength you had left in your body, while sweat beaded your brow, and your wife stayed steadily by your side, you give one final push and feel as your second child comes into the world; the same process quickly taking place as the babe was swept away to be seen to.

Twin cries soon fill the chamber in a harmonious display of new life — cutting through the fog that had fallen over your mind — a sound that brings tears to your eyes and a lightness to your chest, as if a weight had suddenly been lifted that you hadn’t even realized was there.

“Boys! You’ve had two beautiful boys, Your Majesty!” A portly midwife bustles towards you, a delicately small form cradled against her clothed chest. “Perfectly healthy.”

Your son is soon placed on your chest, skin to skin, and he’s soon joined by his brother; both babes swaddled but giving you a perfect view to see their beautiful faces. Looking up at your dragon, you can’t help the tears that stream down your face when you notice her own glistening upon porcelain skin.

“Two handsome princes,” you murmur, gently tracing a line down a chubby cheek. “I can’t believe we’re mothers, Dany.” Your eyes meet the violet gaze of your wife, happiness shared between you like the love that has bonded you for years. “After all this time, I can’t believe that I’m actually here.”

“I never wish to be anywhere else,” Daenerys replies, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple, smoothing a hand down your back. “I would do it all over again, go through all the pain and heart ache, if it meant that I could end up right back here with you, with our children.”

Angling your head, you huff out a light chuckle, taking note that Drogon had taken his leave to, no doubt, rest on the cliff side until he was allowed to meet his siblings in person; something you were excited to do, but your new position also allows you to get a better look at your Khaleesi for the first time; your brow furrowing in concern instantly.

“I thought I was supposed to be the only one covered in blood.” You tug at the crimson stained fabric of her ornate tunic. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m more than fine, dearest one,” Daenerys soothes, calmly smoothing a wild strand of hair back behind your ear. “I simply honored the promise I made to you upon my departure.”

Even if that means I have to kill every last person that would dare keep me from you.

Your eyes flutter shut, arms tightening ever-so-slightly around the twins. “Who did you kill, Dany?” Violet eyes, filled with open amusement, are the first thing you see when you collect yourself. “It wasn’t anyone that’d cause a war, is it?”

“As if any of the nobleman would dare test me,” she scoffs, clearly affronted at the mere insinuation. “I made it abundantly clear how foolish it’d be to keep me from arriving back at your side promptly, something that most of those imbeciles seemed to take as a challenge. A feat that became even more imbecilic when I had received the raven stating that you had gone into labor.”

“How many?”

“I don’t see why that would matter—”

“How many, Daenerys?” You interrupt, the sharpness within your gaze causing your wife to halt mid-sentence. “Don’t you dare lie to me either, I’ll find out sooner or later.”

Daenerys huffs. “A little over two dozen, I’d wager.” Her eyes roll skyward, as if she still couldn’t believe the audacity of the people who had stood between her and her family. “However, as I was saying, I don’t see why that would matter. I did tell them to not get in my way, especially since I was already in a horrid mood having to deal with their foolishness to begin with, not to mention leaving your side, I simply ran out of the patience that had already been in short supply.”

“I don’t even wish to imagine what you would have done if you had missed the birth of our sons.”

Your wife tilts her head. “I would have killed them all, of course. Keeping me from you is a sin upon itself, but keeping me away so you go through something like this alone? Wherein anything could have happened to you?” Daenerys shakes her head at the mere notion. “There wouldn’t be any mercy left in my heart; for there can never be any remnants if someone dares affect you due to their actions.”

Despite yourself, and still wanting to know the finer details about who exactly she had killed, and what sort of mess you could expect upon your return to King’s Landing, you couldn’t help the affection that courses through your veins; Daenerys, for everything that she was, and everything she used to be, had always loved you. More than you think you deserve, in all honesty, but the clear dedication she had for you was never more apparent than in this moment.

So, for her, for everything that she has done, and will continue to do, in the name for her love towards you, you decide to drop the conversation for the moment. This wasn’t a time to get into a petty squabble with your wife; not when your sons slumbered peacefully against your chest.

Daenerys, clearly on the same wave of thought, runs a slender finger across the wisps of silvery-gold hair peeking out from underneath the cloth of the twin closest to her. “What shall we call them, ñuha perzys?”

You pause, ruminating over the variety of choices; Old Valyrian was an obvious choice, something strong to showcase the roots that your sons now held to the ancient world, but what names stuck out the most?

Suddenly, as if hit by a bolt of lightning, you realize the only choice of what they could be.

“I have the perfect names in mind, Dany.” Whispers of a phantom dream wisp through your mind, echoing deep within your heart and soul, your smile turning soft as you gently stroke the soft cheeks of your twins. “If you’ll allow me the honor of bestowing them?”

Daenerys’ beautiful smile in return, violet eyes glassy with unshed tears, is all you needed to see to understand that she was more than willing to grant you whatever you wished.

“I think I’ve always known. It’s just something I haven’t been able to see until now.” You lean against your wife, nestled safely underneath her arm, forever seeking the warmth she so effortlessly provided, as you spoke to the room at large: the surrounding midwives, a wizened maester, various servants, and your most loyal guards, all standing at attention. “I’d like you all to meet Prince Rhaegon and Prince Viseryn of House Targaryen.”

And, if you allowed yourself to believe, to listen close enough, through the crashing of the waves and the rage of the wind, as well as the cheering of the people within the room, you could just make out the twin sounds of answering roars from across the Narrow Sea.

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shesjustanothergeek · 8 months ago

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The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Two: The Gods' Light

IAemond Targaryen x Strong! Readerl

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Writing a child's inner dialogue was interesting. Besides being very plain and blunt, I didn't know how to write it. Writing for a child will be challenging, but I'm more than up for it. Enjoy reading! :)

Chapter Warnings: Aegon is psychotic, animal cruelty, just sibling things, Alicent being dululu.

As you hurried through the echoing halls of the Red Keep, your swift strides outpacing those of your brothers, you clutched a dragon egg close to your chest. You could feel its smooth, warm surface drumming with growing life beneath your fingers, determined not to let it slip from your grasp. The moment’s thrill spurred you on as you raced through the ancient corridors.

Moments ago, as you sat with Jace and Luke, enjoying a midday meal of goat cheese and dried meats, Ser Harwin suddenly appeared in the garden, out of breath from his hurried journey from Maegor’s Holdfast. He excitedly conveyed the news that your mother had just given birth. The announcement filled you with anticipation, eager to visit the Dragonpit and choose an egg from Syrax’s clutch for the new arrival.

You were restricted from visiting your dragon whenever you desired, making each visit to the Pit a momentous occasion. Gaelithox, your loyal mount, was only accessible during carefully organized training sessions under the vigilant supervision of the Keepers and your trusted protector. While you had made remarkable progress with your affectionate dragon, the Keepers could not trust you with it alone.

Jace was still grappling with getting Vermax to heed simple commands. The memory of the Keepers urging your younger brother to stand firm and not yield to fear remained vivid. However, when the volatile olive-scaled juvenile lunged forward, Jace faltered and tumbled onto his back, leaving a lasting impression as Aegon and Aemond teased him for days. Unlike Aegon, whose voice echoed like a cackling witch from the tales your maids told before bed, you stifled laughter. Later that evening, your mother reprimanded you when Jace told the incident during supper, silently mouthing the words ‘tattletale’ to your slightly younger brother.

But none of that mattered now. Mother had a babe, and you desperately wished for a sister. It wasn’t that you disliked your brothers; it was just lonely. Jace and Luke shared their Septon with Aegon and Aemond, and you had Septa Marlow, your mother’s former teacher. It was so incredibly boring to sit there in silence with the old crone droning on and on about the duty of a high-born lady, different types of needlework, dances, manners, other Houses, and the importance of virtue, a word you had yet to understand the meaning of.

You asked your mother on more than one occasion to allow you to learn with Helaena, but she said no, saying something about how she was an odd girl with a fascination for unusual things. You didn’t understand why that was a bad trait. You liked how Helaena played with bugs, recalling the many times you counted the legs of crickets you found underneath rocks in the gardens for her.

When the flowers of King’s Landing had blossomed in the spring, you pleaded with your mother to allow you to spend a day with Helaena in the Godswood. Spring brought out all the little creatures, and your Aunt was always chatty during this time. You fondly remember spending hours capturing beetles, crickets, dragonflies, grasshoppers, and numerous moths and butterflies. You ended up with so many of them that you barely had enough jars to take to your Aunt’s room.

The atmosphere was filled with joy until Aegon arrived. His usual confident stride was noticeably absent, and it was clear that he was not in good spirits. This was unusual, as Aegon was typically the epitome of happiness, and his distress weighed heavily on you. Acting on impulse, you beckoned him over. As he stood before you and his sister, his hands tucked in his pockets, you tried to cheer him up by sharing the day’s events with a hopeful smile. When you suggested showing him a butterfly, he nodded in agreement. You retrieved one carefully, handing it as gently as Helaena had taught you, being mindful not to harm its delicate wings.

You opened your palms slowly to show him. It was bright yellow with black markings, fluttering softly in your grasp. You told him to be careful as you tenderly placed it in Aegon’s hands and told him about the multiflora rose bush you found it from. Turning your head to show him where it was, Aegon crushed the butterfly in his fist, smashing the thinly winged insect as the off-white guts splattered across his palms. You couldn’t understand why he would do such a thing to something you and Helaena took great pride in, never mind that the creature was innocent of whatever hateful reasoning he had behind this.

You recalled how Aegon wiped the remnants of the butterfly across your shocked face in finality and smiled the smile you hoped for, showing the crumpled, wiry black legs and torn shreds of paper-thin wings on his palm.

Helaena screamed. You can still remember the sound of it, piercing your ears and making them feel as if they bled. Aegon rubbed the tiny leftover specs of the carcass onto her head to get her to quiet, bellowing the same cackle he always did. After that, you couldn’t recall much, only a sudden anger you had never felt before, blurry vision, and being pulled off Aegon’s whimpering form. You were still unsure about how you found yourself pummeling your uncle’s face in the same way he did the bug.

The Queen, accompanied by Ser Criston, discovered you trying to embrace Helaena. However, the young girl shied away, retreating into a crouched position, her knees to her chest and her face buried between them. Overwhelmed with emotion, you sought solace in Queen Alicent’s arms, burying your head in her skirts. As she inquired about the events, she tenderly ran her jeweled hands over your messy hair while you struggled to say your feelings, too choked up to speak coherently. She lifted you into her arms in a comforting gesture, providing security and reassurance.

You remembered how her scent lingered in the air—frankincense mixed with something more worldly, a delicate aroma that clung to her soft skin and auburn hair. With a determined expression, she assured you that Aegon would be punished for his actions, a look of resolve you had never seen on her before. She then gently carried you over to her eldest son, who was still visibly upset, wiping at his eyes and tending to his busted lip.

Alicent ordered him to apologize, you still in her arms, your face hidden within her neck as your crying turned to sniffles. Aegon did it begrudgingly, and you could tell he did not mean it, but it was enough to appease the Queen as she carried you to her chambers, commanding a maid to bring a fresh bowl of warm water and lemon tarts, though you much-preferred orange, with some floral smelling tea.

With the tenderness reminiscent of your mother, she gently wiped away the tears and butterfly guts from your face, reassuring you that you were a radiant embodiment of the Seven’s divine light, as lovely as the Maiden herself, and expressed her pride in having someone with a sense of justice akin to the Father’s at her side.

You never understood why your mother didn’t want you to be around the Queen. She was lovely and kind and always had the tastiest snacks at her disposal. You remembered wishing one night after she had yelled at you for running away from your Septa that Queen Alicent was your mother. She would never hurt your feelings as your birth mother had.

“I want to show Mother the egg!” Luke whined at you as you reached her bed chamber doors.

“No, I’m going to,” you tell Luke, keeping the egg closer.

“But why?” he asked, sounding on the verge of tears, petulantly stomping his tiny foot.

“Because I’m the eldest,” you quipped as you kept the egg out of his grasp.

“Luke was the one who chose it! You just picked it up,” Jace countered, sounding way too smart for his good.

You started to voice your objections once more, but just then, Ser Harwin turned the corner and caught up with the group of you. Anticipating that Luke would inform Harwin about your refusal to give him the egg, you let out an exaggerated groan, rolled your eyes, and reluctantly handed it to your younger brother.

“Little Princes and Princess, you know better than to run away from me. I should tell your mother about this.” For a moment, you were worried that Ser Harwin might be serious, but then you saw his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“We won’t do it again, Ser Harwin,” Jace answered. You knew he was lying; your mother’s sworn protector seemed to think that, too.

“We will be calm when we enter, yes?” Ser Harwin commanded rather than asked.

You all nod, not saying a peep as he opens the door to your Mother’s chambers, though the sound of three pairs of little feet running across the stone floor defeats Harwin Strong’s fleeting hope.

“Look what we brought, mother!” Jacaerys exclaimed, showing her the near-black-scaled egg in his grasp. “We chose the egg for the babe!”

The Princess sat in a cushioned chair, her arms cradling a small bundle wrapped in intricately sewn brown and gold fabric. From within the bundle, tiny grunts were heard, adding to the air of anticipation and curiosity in the room.

“That looks like the perfect one,” she kindly replied, grunting as she shifted in her seat.

Your mother smiled at the three of you, leaning forward in her cushioned armchair to show her newest addition to her pride and joy. Pulling the fabric that obscured your sibling’s face away, you stared, a coo of awe filling the air as your brothers placed the dragon egg into the warming pot. He didn’t look much of anything right now, save for the same brown eyes the three of you shared. Your brother’s skin flushed peachy as he opened his toothless mouth to yawn.

“I let Luke choose,” you added, tugging the fabric as you poked his plump cheek. It was soft and warm under your finger, smoother than anything you had ever felt.

Your mother placed a hand on the crown of your brown hair, a stark contrast to the white of hers and your father’s as she caressed the silky strands. “Thank you, my darling. That was very kind.”

“It is not every day an egg leaves the Dragonpit, Princess,” Ser Harwin spoke, a pride you didn’t have to look to see heard within his voice. “I thought it best to escort the lads and lady.”

“Laenor and I thank you, Commander,” she nodded gratefully, the tips of her teeth showing between her pink lips.

The adults continued to converse, but you and your siblings were too concerned with the new addition to pay any attention. Jace and Luke soon found their way to your side, Ser Harwin standing behind your mother with a gentle smile as they peered into the fabric.

“Why doesn’t he have any teeth?” Luke questioned, his dark brows drawn together in confusion. Your mother chuckled and glanced at her sworn protector above as you answered.

“He was born a few hours ago, Luke. Of course he doesn’t have teeth,” you jeered, staring incredulously at him.

“Now, be nice, dear heart,” Rhaenyra scolded. “He has never seen a babe before. You asked the same questions when he was born.”

You scowled with sealed lips, returning your vision to the bundle in her arms. He was cute, but when your mother told you his name and that you were waiting for your father to come, you sighed, plopping onto a plush settee.

“Joffrey?” Jace asked, ignoring a begging Luke pleading to hold his brother.

“Joffrey,” she answered gracefully. “A name your father and I chose together like all of you.” She stroked the lanugo hair on your brother’s head, bringing her lips to his crown.

You stared at your mother with scrunched brows, confused about why they picked such a non-Targaryen and Velaryon name. She indeed named her children in Laenor’s absence, but you knew she did not name you.

“Queen Alicent named me mother. Not you. She said you weren’t expecting a girl, so you had her decide.” Rhaenyra’s violet eyes flicked to you, a look you could only understand as restrained annoyance on her chiseled face. You did not mean to upset her, your head lowering in embarrassment. You were only telling the truth.

“And what an honor it is to be named by the Queen Consort,” she expressed, a slight smile on her rosy lips. Her strained voice betrayed any tenderness she attempted to show, furthering your shame in displeasing her for only saying what you believed was fact.

The embarrassment did not last long. Your father barreled through the door with the sound of boisterous laughter. You shot out of your seat, your brothers hollering in greeting as your father swooped you into his strong arms without warning. You squealed. You kicked your feet with joy as Laenor Velaryon held you within his warm embrace, a smile gracing his features as he swung your wiggling form back and forth.

Rhaenyra smiled gracefully, still holding your younger brother in her tired arms. She observed the three of you clinging to your father as his companion stood a respectable distance away. Her heart felt complete at the sight, and her exhausted gaze traveled to Ser Harwin, a soft grin squinting her eyes.

“Father, what stories of your travels do you have?” Jace asked, eager, a grin pulling his cherubic cheeks as you flung over Laenor’s shoulder with a giggle.

You waved to Ser Qarl, his chiseled face offering a teasing look as you giggled. Luke’s mop of brown curls barely reached your father’s waist as he hugged him, peering up. His dark eyes were wide with excitement as you waited for the exciting tales he would undoubtedly have for you three.

Before your father could answer, your mother spoke, her maternal presence reasoning like a cloud covering the scorching sun, her voice firm but gentle. She commanded you to leave with the squire and your father. Each of you attempted to argue with her, groaning that you hadn’t seen him for a moon and wanted to hear what he had to say.

“Mother, it’s been forever since we last saw Father!” Jace complained, his tone so whiney and spoiled that it had Ser Harwin chuckling.

“You will give me no lip, you three,” she commanded sternly, her face glistening with sweat. “You shall hear all your father has to say and more once you finish your lessons in the Pit.”

Rhaenyra nodded to her husband as she placed your new brother into Ser Harwin’s arms, observing for a long moment as her lithe fingers stroked the silky skin of the babe’s temple. With a grunt, Laenor placed you back onto the ground, bestowing each of you a kiss on your dark crowns before the squire and Laenor led the trio of you out.

The air was always thick within the Dragonpit, blankets of smoke from torches and incense permeating the cavernous expanse of the halls as it struggled to cover the scent of dragon. When you entered, it nearly choked your lungs, constantly rubbing at your watery eyes as the Dragonkeepers brought forth your little dragon from the deep with rattling chains.

Your uncles, Aemond and Aegon, stood beside you and your brothers in green garments. The younger’s freckled face was sullen as he watched your juvenile dragon flap its viridian wings, kicking its chained legs impatiently. Aegon appeared bored, sputtering his lips and rolling his violet eyes with annoyance.

You ignored the eldest prince, giggling at your mount’s antics, and took a step forward, reaching an unguarded palm out before a Keeper abruptly smacked it away. Gaelithox released a loud hiss at the Elder’s action, strings of saliva splattering on the stone floor as his blood-red eyes bulged out of their sockets, jerking his chains. Scowling, you crossed your arms, waiting for their instructions as you quelled the ire that began to rise at their scolding.

Aegon released a chuckle from behind, swaying on his feet as you turned, fixing him and Aemond, who mirrored his expressions with a fiery glare. You had always felt that your uncles disliked you, and even though they were of a similar age, you did not feel comfortable in their company, a constant bubbly sensation that felt like a beast was attempting to claw out of your stomach whenever Aegon or Aemond was near. Yet a part of you still craved their attention, their acceptance, feeling that if you did whatever one of them wanted, finally, they would like you.

It never worked, at least not truly.

Eventually, you found that if you could not receive the validation from both, one would do.

When Aemond and Aegon followed you to the gardens one summer afternoon, both intent on harping about your “insulting appearance to the eyes,” you snapped. It was the first time you heard the word bastard hurled towards you. You were five years of age and had yet to understand.

Your mother always told you to treat your uncles kindly even when they did not do the same. The goodness in you did not want to hurt them, whether it be physically or their feelings, but with no brothers to defend you and no guards around to escort you away, you were left with no choice after Aemond yanked a piece of your dark hair so hard it came out of your scalp.

“I am more of a Targaryen than you, Aemond! I have a dragon!”

You turned to Aegon next, ready to scream that even though he was born a male, your mother remained the Iron Throne’s heir, but the words stayed inside you. The king’s eldest son stopped you with a boisterous laugh, placing a gangly arm on your shoulder as he praised you for your immature insults.

Something shifted in the dynamic between the five of you that day. No longer were you and your brothers the dirt underneath your uncle’s shoes. Now, the four of you were comrades. The relationship was still tense, but you had found the secret to redirecting your torment.

“Princess,” the Dragonkeeper translated the other, “you have excelled in your bonding with Gaelithox, but he is still young and unpredictable.” You looked into the man’s eyes, anxious to hear what the next task for you to master would be.

Yes, Gaeli was still a juvenile, not yet grown into his leafy-colored body, the red scales lining his sides and wings placed with a lighter yellow-green, but he was bound to you. That was the most crucial part. There could be no command of an animal if it did not trust you and you, them. It took everything within not to roll your eyes.

“Ivestragī zirȳla jikagon,” (Let him go) the Elder Keeper nodded, having the others release the chains of your dragon.

Gaeli stalked forward, his clawed legs slapping on the stone floor as he hissed, his arrowhead swaying and observing the people before him. You could hear the panicked whispers of the men, demanding you tell your dragon to stop as he continued his swift march forward. You understood that his intent was the Elder who chastised you and had half a mind to allow Gaeli to scare him, his crimson orbs set on the man who did not falter.

Jace grabbed the hem of your matching navy skirt in anxiety and attempted to pull you back, fearing what the dragon might do, but you held steadfast, a self-assured smirk gracing your features.

“Kelīs!” (Halt) you commanded confidently with your chest, beaming once your dragon ceased its pursuit with the tilt of its triangle-shaped head.

Aegon appeared bored with the ordeal, exaggerating a yawn as he flipped his frizzy blonde hair from his face. You could not ignore the pang of hurt at his disinterest, seeking more validation and praise from him that you would not get unless at someone’s expense. Aemond had hidden his face from your view behind his older brother, his sun-spotted cheeks dusted pink as you peered around to make eye contact, only for him to sneer and turn away.

Twat.

“Pay close attention, Uncle Aemond. Mayhaps one day you will be in this position, but I do believe it won’t be for a very long, long time,” you snickered, the sensation of less than leaving as you noticed Aegon’s smirk. Facing the Keeper and his translator, you could never remember the name of once more, you spoke. “When will I be able to fly Gaeli? I am able to control him well enough.”

The older man grimaced, wiping the sweat across his ebony brow as he gave an unconvincing expression. “Gaelithox is not yet riding age, and there is still much for you to learn, your highness, before you are ready to make such feats,” the translator expressed.

A pout formed on your plush lips, looking to Gaeli and back to the half a dozen Keepers and Wards. It was as if your dragon could sense your annoyance, releasing a deep hiss within the back of his throat and unhinging his jaw as he lunged at the Elder, swiftly jerked by the chains at his ankles. You could not hide your amusement at the adolescent and earned a scolding in High Valyrian that you could not comprehend nor care about.

“Gaelithox kostagon botta aōha botagon. Pōnta issi vēdros. Istia gūr��ñagon naejot control zirȳ gō kostā kipagon.” (Gaelithox can sense your emotions. They are volatile, but you must learn to control them before you can ride.)

A grin spread across your plump cheeks, a mischievous thought coming to mind as you turned to look at Aegon, who was still quite bored. The hurt did not lessen, and quickly, you glanced at the Keepers out of the corner of your eye as you took a few paces back, ensuring your brothers were behind you as you inhaled and spoke the few words you knew of High Valyrian off your pink tongue.

“Sōvēs!” (fly)

Gaelithox didn’t hesitate for a moment. With a mighty leap, he soared into the air, his shimmering emerald wings creating a whirlwind of dirt and debris that engulfed the Keepers. His joyful songs filled the air as he gracefully flew above you, the chains on his legs and torso barely out of the reach of the Dragonwards. You watched in wonder as your dragonling glided effortlessly across the ceiling of the Pit, moving above each of you with the grace and agility of a bird. The men in their gray and crimson garb scattered around the cave’s entrance like ants whose hill had been disturbed, desperately trying to seize Gaeli’s chains.

As you turned to look behind, you bloomed, a smile so bright on your countenance that you felt it would burn all who witnessed it. Jace and Luke stared at you proudly, the youngest trying to run to you but was held back by a Kingsguard. Luke still had much to learn with Arrax. For one, your little brother was deathly afraid of him despite his denial, an emotion the dragon could sense during the training sessions.

A surge of relief washed over you as you looked at Aegon, whose laughter filled the air in response to your impish choices. He warmly placed his pale, sinewy hand on your shoulder in approval while his younger brother Aemond remained concealed behind him. Despite the Dragonkeepers’ urgent calls for Gaelithox to land, you couldn’t help but savor the feeling of self-satisfaction that his gesture brought.

“Ao dovodedha riña! Aōha giēñilaros hen bisa ozletti kessa sagon se morghon hen sȳz vali! Aōha muña kessa rȳbagon hen bisa,” (You ignorant girl! Your misuse of this bond will be the death of good men! Your mother will hear of this) the Elder shouted, grabbing your shoulders as if his ire could force sense into you.

Once you decided that you had tortured the handlers enough, you told Gaeli to land, which he did so with low, begrudging noises, the vibration of his weight rattling your bones. The rest of the training session went uneventful as you commanded your mount to stay, lay down, and heel, the usual tricks that you and Gaeli had long grown bored of after the first successful attempts.

When your dragon was tired, nipping at the Keepers who tried to redirect him back to the task, they called an end, bringing forth a white and brown goat as a reward for Gaeli’s patience, a bell jingling around its neck. His scaly, clawed feet tapped against the floor with an excited rhythm, evoking the image of a pup eagerly anticipating its meal. He suddenly lunged towards it but halted abruptly in response to your brief noise.

“Lykirī. Where are your manners, Gaeli?” (Be calm), you teased, earning a quick reprimand from the Head Dragonkeeper for your childishness.

“You must treat these beasts with caution and respect, Princess, lest you get burned. They are wild, barely tamed creatures. They allow you this bond,” the translator conveyed, his accent thick and worry etched in his tone.

You groaned, interrupted by an impatient screech from your dragon as a line of drool dropped from in between his finger-length fangs. After a quick apology, you allowed Gaelithox to feast, commanding with a decisive “dracarys.” The red eyes of your dragon shone like rubies in his orange flames. His obsidian pupils slit as he burned the goat to a charred crisp, tearing at its flesh into chunks.

After begrudging praise from the Keepers as they led Gaeli back into his nest, it was now Jace’s turn to repeat the same routine, although much less eventful. He was anxious to train Vermax, barely containing his excitement as his dragon whistled. His mount approached him with purpose, olive and scarlet toned body thumping with each step as the younger Keeper translated the Elder’s words.

“Call Vermax to heel Prince Jacaerys.”

Jace looked to the dark-skinned man who scolded you for your arrogance earlier, scars across his skin and listened.

“Dohaerās.” (Serve) And Vermax obeyed, stopping a few paces before your barely younger brother, horned head tilting in interest.

The Elder looked down at your brother, a proud smile on his bearded mouth, and nodded in approval. You should have felt the same that Jace was advancing in his sessions and closely catching up to you, but all you felt was the burning sensation of envy in your stomach, which you buried with an encouraging expression to your brother. You did not understand why you felt such a thing as he was urged back to his dragon, who had taken notice of a snow-white sheep belting in the distance.

He was your brother, your twin, as close to the same as one could be. It would be best if you were ecstatic that Jace was blossoming into a fine dragon knight. Still, you did not, and guilt and jealousy overwhelmed you as he waited for the instructions, an overeager Vermax ready to devour the unaware sheep.

Just as quickly as the feeling came, it went as you watched how Vermax disobeyed Jace’s commands to halt his pursuit of the animal. The only thing holding the young dragon back was the Warders’ staff.

“You must hold mastery over your dragon, my young prince,” the translator spoke, “as Prince Aegon has with Sunfyre.” High Valyrian rolled off the Elder’s tongue with deep rumbles as he talked to an embarrassed Jace. “Once they are fully bound to you, they will refuse to take instruction from any other, much like your older sister.”

Vermax released an ear-piercing screech of frustration as his yellow eyes bore into the roped sheep, belting in primal terror as it attempted to escape a fate over which it had no control. Jace nodded to the older man, shame replaced with excitement coursing through his veins as he hopped from foot to foot.

“Can I say it?” he asked anxiously, brown eyes wide with a youthful glow that reflected your own with your dragonling. The Elder nodded in affirmation as Jace glanced back to you and where you stood in front of Aegon, the man swiftly pushing your brother forward in admonishment for his brief action of immature reassurance.

Your brother turned with a broad smile you feared would split his face in two as you heard the shuffle of shoes behind you. Aemond found himself peering over your shorter form as he studied the dragon, slinking closer and closer to its prey, screeches of a predator ready to pounce echoing off the caverns. You looked at your younger uncle with confusion. Your eyebrows scrunched together as he paid you no mind. Unsure of why you did so, you took a step to the side, allowing him more room to observe as your brother shouted gleefully.

“Dracarys, Vermax!”

Perhaps a subconscious part of you felt bad for your dragonless uncle, hoping to give him at least a taste of what power one felt when in command of a beast such as this. Besides, it was the right thing to do. You knew he would not notice such kindness from you and did not expect anything in return, nor did you want it, as Vermax’s orange flames charred the flesh of the snow-white sheep.

You approached Jace once the lesson ended, giving him an encouraging hug from behind. You knew this was a remarkable feat for him. Jace and you were the same, a sentiment shared by both and your family on countless occasions. Spending every waking moment with someone, sharing the same bed, meals, toys, and friends, it was no surprise that you confided in one another and shared affections that traditional siblings did not have. You tended to mother your brother, a flaw that your natural mother had scolded you on, but that did not stop you as you kissed Jace on his warm, smooth cheek, whispering what he could do better with his dragon the next time.

You only wanted the best for your brother, and you desperately wanted to share your triumphs with the person you spent all your days with, even if it was selfish.

Chattering behind you caught your attention, seeing Aegon approach his younger brother as he flippantly stroked a piece of unruly frizz from his face.

“Aemond, we have a surprise for you,” he confided, placing an encouraging hand at his brother’s mid-back.

The youngest prince of King Viserys looked skeptically at his kin, gaze downcast. “What is it?” he asked warily, shoulders hunched. Luke gave a cheeky grin and kicked the dirt with his toes.

“Something very special,” your brother answered as you watched him scamper off into the darkness of the Pit.

You and Jace gazed at your uncles, confused, a twinge of hurt poking at your chest at having been left out of the “surprise” as you grabbed his hand for support. Subconsciously, you rubbed your thumb over his knuckles, feeling uneasy in your heart as Jace looked eagerly to where his brother went.

“You’re the only one of us without a dragon,” Aegon began, escorting Aemond to his intended destination, waiting for his response.

“Indeed,” the young prince answered curtly. Aemond still lowered his head, silver hair tied back as he followed his older sibling blindly.

You could tell Aegon was holding a barely restrained smile, gesturing with his pale hands and continuing. “And we felt badly about it, so we found one for you.”

You cocked your head as you followed at a distance. A part of you was anxious to see what Aegon planned, knowing from his history in the back of your mind that it would not be as kind as he was making it out to be. Nonetheless, you intently listened as Aemond protested with suspicion.

“A dragon? How?”

Your uncle smirked, stopping just before the ramp of the Dragonpit sloped down to where the Keepers held the animals. You heard the squeals of a creature you could not recognize due to the echoes bouncing off the stone walls. It sent an ominous, almost eerie feeling through your bones.

“The Gods provide,” Aegon answered alisively.

Moments later, your younger brother led a plump, pink pig with wooden wings strapped to its hairy pot belly up to the four of you.

“Behold! The Pink Dread,” Luke and Aegon announced simultaneously, cheering as if this was the most fantastic find in the history of Westeros.

“Be sure to mount her carefully. The first flight is always rough.”

This was hideous. This was horrendous. This was a terrible, awful, no-good deed that would surely wind up with all of you receiving a reprimand from your parents. But why... why was it so funny?

You released a noise akin to a gag, a failed attempt to stifle a laugh as your brothers and elder uncle snorted in unison. Unable to control your giggles, you covered your mouth, releasing Jace’s hand as you ran over to Aemond, nudging his side.

“Don’t be so rude, Uncle! She is a very fine creature, worthy of having such a noble rider,” you teased, but he gave no reaction, only staring at the winged pig with a sullen, dejected expression on his freckled countenance.

It only made you feel slightly wrong… slightly.

When Aegon decided the fun had outstayed its welcome, he walked away, laughter fading as the three of you followed his coattails like ducklings to their mother out of the Dragonpit, leaving a dejected Aemond to stare at his new gift.

You spared a glance back to your uncle as the yellow sun peeked into the expanse of the Pit. Guilt crawled up your back like dark clouds before a storm, hesitating your exit as he became aware of your gaze. Aemond still stood where the four of you left him, radiating an aura of hurt, apathy, and anger. Flames lit your cheeks in shame as you stepped back towards your younger uncle, only to be swiftly stopped by the other, Aegon’s larger hand placing itself on your crown as he forced you to follow his march out of the Dragonpit.

There was no reason for this guilt. Aemond would undoubtedly hurt you or your feelings regardless of the jokes your siblings and Aegon played on him. It was only a matter of time until the word bastard spewed from his chapped lips.

The sun felt warm on your skin as you were helped into the carriage, awaiting the return of the five of you home, though you missed one. Judging by the bright orb's position, it would soon be time for your daily lessons with Septa Marlow. The woman was so old that she often fell asleep during your embroidery lessons, an easy chance for you to escape the crone’s torture that she called learning.

The ride to the Red Keep was quick, and the amount of time it took your Septa to fall asleep was even faster, much to your delight. You found yourself wandering the halls, staring at the paintings depicting great battles with dragons and portraits of your ancestors, unsure what would peak your fancy and seeking anything to entertain you. Your brothers were in their lessons that were undoubtedly more enticing than yours, and your father would most likely be with your mother, seeing as there was a new addition to the family.

“What are you doing wandering about the halls, Princess?” the velvet voice of Queen Alicent rang out.

Finally, your musings were answered.

You demurely smiled at the Queen, giving her a short curtsy in your Velaryon blue gown, tiny silver seahorses embroidered into the bodice. “Septa Marlow fell asleep again, and she looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake her,” you answered with a childish coyness that never failed to endear Alicent. You were her shining light, after all.

The Queen chuckled, a noise you heard few and far between as she offered you a delicate palm, accepting it without hesitation. Your mother never approved of you spending time unchaperoned with her for reasons you could never comprehend. She was family, your grandmother, to be precise, and she was the one who gave you a name. It should be more than natural to accompany her on outings and luncheons.

“You should not be alone, Princess. ’Tis unsafe for a girl of your age to be unaccompanied in the Keep. I am going to Helaena’s room to pay her a visit. Come,” Alicent stated without so much as a sliver of space for protests.

“Why is it unsafe, your majesty?” you questioned with a raised brow, curious who or what would try to hurt you. “It’s my home and I’m a princess. No one would try to hurt me.”

The Queen stopped her movements, glancing down at your much shorter form as a sigh escaped her mouth. “You are still a child, my light, and many people would love to snatch it away and keep it for themselves. Those even close to you could wish you harm.”

Your head whipped up towards Alicent faster than humanly possible, a horrified look on your visage. People close to you? What could she mean? Could it be your maids? The servants who changed your sheets, washed your clothes, or made your food? Could your mother wish to hurt you? Your brother? Your hair prickled at the thought, causing your skin to itch and become uncomfortable. You could not say anything in response.

You followed the Queen to your Aunt’s quarters without strife, a sinking feeling in your gut as her ringed hand enveloped yours in a blanket of maternal security. Alicent would never hurt you… would she?

The same scent of frankincense wafted into your nose as the Queen led you. It sent pleasant shivers down your spine, making you forget the discontent as you passed lords and ladies of the court, a warm sense of joy tickling your stomach. You looked at Queen Alicent, the natural light filtering through the windows, to see specks of dust dancing in the air behind her auburn hair.

Admiration washed over you as you studied her, a crown of weaved golden threads resting atop her curled updo. She wore earrings of silver metal intricately smelted together, an emerald gem placed in the center with droplets of pearl glinting in the sun. Her gown was green, a usual statement color of her House, and she had a modest cloak covering her shoulders and cut sleeves. She was so beautiful, more beautiful than anyone you had ever seen besides your mother, and it filled you with a sense of deep admiration that nearly overwhelmed you.

Cackles echoed in the distance of the red rock walls of the Keep, a group of ladies adorned in extravagant garbs striding in the opposite direction of the pair of you. Their piercing laughter abruptly ended as they spotted you hand in hand with the Queen, appearing as if they saw a ghost. They stood there, still, unmoving, their eyes following you, despite the impropriety of gawking at the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms and a daughter of the heir, whispering words of gossip.

Your adoration of Alicent was forgotten about as a sinking feeling of inadequacy hollowed your chest, somehow knowing they were speaking of you. The Queen felt hesitation in your steps as you passed by the women, uncertainty causing you to squeeze her golden-ringed fingers tighter.

“Pay no mind to them, my light,” Alicent encouraged, rubbing a comforting thumb over your knuckles as you did with Jace. You tried to listen to her words and disregard the judgmental stares of the ladies, but you could not and heard one whispering.

“Seven! She looks more like the Queen than her mother!”

The laughter soon carried on as a lump formed in your throat. Your arms felt prickly again, as if the hair got stuck between the threads of your clothes, pulling and tugging uncomfortably as you attempted to scratch the sensation. Queen Alicent glanced down at the sudden clawing at your limbs. Her plush lips pouted in a curious expression, recognition flashing in her amber eyes as she smoothed the stray hairs of your braid, kissing the top of your head in comfort.

Soon, you entered Helaena’s chambers, her Septa dressed in humble charcoal gray clothing, sitting next to your Aunt as she hunched over an ancient tome. The modestly dressed woman stood and bowed at the arrival of the Queen, exiting without words as you sat on a Myrish rug. A glass case filled with different types of insects rested on the delicate fabric, taking note of a giant dead obsidian scorpion in it. You could not hide the shudder the creature brought as your Aunt found her place next to you, bringing out another small casing.

“What is in that one, Helaena?” you asked, peering curiously over her shoulder. She recoiled at your sudden presence, slightly shifting away from you as a pang of hurt hit your core at the action. She disregarded your question and focused on her hidden creature, but you paid no attention to it, happy to be by her side.

Alicent sat on the opposite side of her daughter, crossing one leg and bending the other to get into a comfortable position. Though the rug was lavish, it did not provide much cushioning for larger bodies. As your Aunt opened the wooden box, a creature you had never seen crawled along the side, with what seemed to be a thousand tiny legs hidden underneath a shiny black body. You tried to hide your shock as Helaena picked it up, allowing it to crawl along her pale, dainty fingers. Another shudder of disgust came over you as you watched the bug’s legs move too quickly to be something of this world, nausea bubbling in your stomach.

“This one has sixty rings. Two pairs of legs on each. That’s two-hundred and forty,” Helaena stated, her violet gaze trained on the creature. She seemed as if in another world as she spoke, talking to those around her but not registering your presence.

You intently observed as she allowed the bug to crawl up her satin dress sleeve before placing it back into her palm to study it more. You never understood Helaena’s fascination with the things, but you didn’t deter her from it, even when she brought out creatures such as this. It was never something you were interested in yourself, as you would much prefer to spend time plucking flowers like other girls your age. However, you respected them nonetheless.

“Yes, it is,” the Queen agreed, her facial expressions showing exasperation despite her encouraging words. You moved closer to Helaena with a morbid fascination to see the thing, though you still felt repulsed.

Your Aunt was silent for a beat, entranced with the new addition to her collection, seeming as if she forgot your and Alicent’s existence. Her voice was the only thing that indicated recognition. “Would you like to hold it?” she asked airily.

Unsure if she was speaking to you, you did not respond. Only when Helaena turned her pale face to you did you respond with a swift shake of your head. Your Aunt took no offense to the refusal, continuing to examine it. “It has eyes, though I did not believe it can see.”

Alicent released a noiseless sigh. She seemed tired of her child’s interests since they were not ordinary, making you feel bad for Helaena. Though people believed she did not perceive the world for what it was, she wasn’t blind. Your Aunt felt and understood emotions like the rest of you, but she did not act like everyone else. It did not mean she was not human.

“And why is that so, do you think?” the Queen asked, her velvet voice bland with feigned interest.

“It is beyond our understanding,” Helaena plainly answered, allowing the quiet to resonate as your eyes flicked between them.

“I suppose you’re right,” Alicent replied, placing what was intended to be a comforting hand onto Helaena’s elbow. Your Aunt flinched, trying to free herself from her mother’s touch but knowing she could not force a guardian to listen to their child. “Some things are just beyond our understanding,” she finished, begrudgingly letting go.

You observed the exchange with critical eyes. Your brow scrunched in the offense for Helaena and confusion. The Queen knew her daughter did not like touch unless she was the one to initiate it, but she still insisted on invading her space with the ignorant hope that Helaena would one day accept her affections. You supposed that was why the Queen liked spending time with you, as you were a more typical child, embracing any affection.

Suddenly, the door to Helaena’s chambers opened with a clanking of metal and squeal of hinges as a Kingsguard gripping harshly onto Aemond’s arm entered. The three of you turned to face the noise, confusion mixed with surprise matching each of your faces.

“Your grace,” the Kingsguard announced as Aemond struggled in his grasp. Questions etched your brows as she stood and went to her son. You understood he had done something wrong by the shame covering his face like the ash dusting it.

“Aemond!” she exclaimed. “What have you done?” She took her son by his shoulders, palpating his soot-covered visage to ensure there were no wounds.

“He did it again,” Helaena answered for the guard as you glanced at her for an explanation.

Aemond being covered in ash and escorted by a guard seemed a common occurrence for the three of them, and it needed no explanation. Aemond smelled of smoke and incense, a scent you recognized from that of the Dragonpit. Had he still been in there this whole time?

“After how many times you’ve been warned? Must I have you confined to your chambers?” Alicent interrogated, exasperation evident in her tone. She stared at him with words ready to scold before her son interrupted with a protest.

“They made me do it!”

They? Was he referring to you, Aegon, and your brothers? You didn’t coerce Aemond into the depths of the Dragonpit, where he likely encountered a dragon that wasn’t his own. How could he hold you responsible for his own choices?

“As if you needed encouragement! Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding,” she admonished with a shake of her head.

Aemond’s eyes widened with tears as he tried to comprehend his mother’s lack of understanding. He felt a profound sense of hopelessness and powerlessness in the situation, believing that he had no alternative but to respond in the manner he did, his blonde hair in disarray. It was evident that you hadn’t realized the extent of the pain you caused him. What you perceived as a simple jest had deeply wounded him.

“They gave me a pig!” He shrieked, tears finally falling from his violet eyes as you looked anywhere but at the mother and son before you. “They gave me a pig,” he admitted softer this time, sniffling with chagrin.

Guilt overcame you at the hurt your uncle displayed, emotions gathering in your throat as your digits went under your sleeves, tugging at the hair that had been bothering you all day. You didn’t realize the joke had wounded Aemond as profoundly as it had, shame rising and covering your heart.

“They said they had a dragon for me,” your uncle confessed, gaze downcast as Helaena began to lose interest in the conversation before her.

“The last ring has no legs at all,” she said as if you should also share her nonchalant sentiment and fall into her world. You ignored her; all your attention focused on the impending storm unleashed upon you once Aemond told Alicent what the four of you did.

“But it was a pig,” your uncle declared, a scornful gaze directed at you as Alicent turned to face your shrunken form.

“Is this true?” she interrogated, ire directed at you instead of her son as you hesitated. “Is it true?”

The Queen had never crossed with you before, and it caused an unwelcome sensation in your stomach. “I didn’t know they were going to do it!” you exclaimed, shame heating your cheeks. “I wouldn’t have let them if I knew!”

“Liar! You laughed!” Aemond protested, hurt evident in his voice as he pointed an accusing digit. “You and Aegon love to torment me!”

“Only because you do it first! You call me a bastard and pull my hair! I’m not a bastard!” you argued, tears wetting your cheeks at the intensity of your sudden anger.

The Queen’s disappointment abruptly left at your words, swiftly turning to Aemond as her face blanched. “Aemond, she is your kin. You mustn’t call her such things,” she implored, eyes wide with a meaning behind them you couldn’t place.

“But mother, you–”

“No, Aemond,” she interrupted urgently, stopping your uncle from saying something that would cause another uproar from you and find its way to Rhaenyra. “You must apologize. Both of you. You are family and need to be kind to one another even when they have upset you.” Alicent turned and extended a palm out, encouraging you to make the first step of amends for your participation in the cruel joke you played on Aemond.

You knew he would not accept your apology, though it was sincere. There was no intended malice with your laughter toward Aemond in the Pit. It was what was expected of you to do. You would have become his brother’s next victim if you hadn’t gone along with Aegon when Luke brought out the pig.

“I’m sorry, Aemond. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” you confessed, plucking at the hairs on your forearms to ease the discontent in your heart. He refused to reply with an apology of his own, glaring down at you with such a fierceness you feared that you would wilt. “You will have a dragon one day, uncle. There are many still unclaimed at Dragonstone, and wild ones too! Perhaps you could come with us when we visit in the summer?”

“You laughed,” Aemond glowered, voice cracking. The pain he disguised as anger slipped through his scornful mask, causing your mouth to be thick.

You could tell he wanted to hit you as he usually would in these situations; his hands balled into fists at his sides, but suddenly, they became limp, and a wave of affection and comfort for your uncle pulled you towards him. You wrapped your arms around Aemond, hugging him so tightly you were unsure if he could breathe, burying your face in his neck. After a long day outside, he smelled of sweat and dragon smoke, a hint of expensive amber-scented soap on his skin. Aemond did not return the action, but you sensed he no longer wanted to hurt you as much.

“I love you, uncle, and I know we’ll fly together on dragonback someday,” you encouraged, holding him impossibly tighter. Partly to distract yourself from your guilt and partly because you knew that despite his cold, sullen demeanor, he too enjoyed the rare warmth of embrace even though it was by the one he despised.

Human touch was still touch.

Alicent smiled, a joy welling inside her chest that she had not felt in decades. This was the start of something new, a seed planted in the first rays of spring with the hopes of a bountiful harvest in autumn, but Aemond refused to give it thought, focused only on the ridicule you, Aegon, and your brothers caused him.

You were not like Rhaenyra in more ways than the Queen initially thought. You were Alicent’s child, not in this life, but another where she was not a queen and was not a game piece her father moved about how he pleased. She could bring a proposal to match the one she rejected from Princess Rhaenyra with one of her sons. At least in that way, she could ensure your bright mind would not become tainted by Rhaenyra’s blackened rot.

The Queen gently stroked your and Aemond’s hair, a tender smile on her plump lips, and pressed a kiss atop both your crowns—so different yet so intertwined in ways children could not comprehend.

Alicent’s shining light, her dream. A dream that never was indeed hers.

“He will have to close an eye.”

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

The reader’s dragon is based on a snake that caught my eye while watching a Nat Geo documentary. It’s called Pope’s Green Pit Viper and is native to Southeast Asia. I initially didn’t think it was a real snake because it looked so cool! They are also the only snakes to give birth to live young, like mammals, and have heat vision.

Also, for those who don't know, Gaelithox is part of the Fourteen Flames, the Gods of Old Valyria. He's the god of fire, stars, moon, sun, and dawn, the rival of Meraxes. Pretty on the nose there, huh?

Thank you so much for reading! I’m so excited to have y’all see what I’ve been cooking up, and I look forward to hearing y’all’s thoughts!

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager

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digi-lov · 2 months ago

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ShineGreymon: Ruin Mode EX4-074 Alternative Art by toriyufu from Digimon Card Game Special Limited Set [E] / LM-04: Limited Card Set Torrid Weiss

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aemondapologistfrfr · 7 months ago

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His Princess - Pt4

fancast!bloody ben x targ!fem!reader

Pt 1 Pt2 Pt 3

Summary: Vermithor accepts Ben as his rider and he takes to the skies with Silverwing. Y/n teaches him how to strengthen the bond and basic commands. A confession while Y/n gets into an argument with Baela and Jace.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, oral (m receiving), bathing, fingering, p in v, L word, very short snippet of Jace and Baela in Harrenhal

Authors Note: them riding the bonded dragons together is my roman empire rn, why shouldn’t riding bonded dragons cause a little bit of hot tension between these two?

Word Count: 5.6k

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

I study Ben’s features as I look at him in the early morning light. He’s sleeping so peacefully and I can’t help but think about what will happen shortly. He’s brave and fearless and absolutely fucking reckless and I’m hoping these traits will attract Vermithor. He’s been dwelling in the depths of the pits only emerging for food and Silverwing and just maybe he’ll come out for Ben. I straddle Ben and lean down to his neck.

“Wake up, Ben.” I whisper in his ear as my hair curtains around us. He slowly opens his eyes as they start to focus on me.

“Beautiful,” his voice gravely from sleep as he reaches up to kiss me while his hands travel up my legs on either side of him.

“Serve me,” I murmur softly as I kiss him once more.

“Serve me?” he pulls back breathing heavily.

“Very good, it means serve me.” I hum as I kiss him once more.

“Obey me,” I whisper against his lips.

“Obey me,” he moves his head up as I sit back looking down to him.

“Obey me,” his breath catches at my words.

“Hello, my fearsome Vermithor.” his eyes lock to mine at the familiar greeting.

“Hello, my fearsome Vermithor.” Ben’s voice is steady and strong.

“Hello, my fearsome Vermithor.” I nod my head to him.

He slowly starts to sit up as a smile begins to form across his face. He pulls me down to his lips as I gasp getting lost in him. He releases me and pulls me out of bed quickly. I shake my head at his enthusiasm, but his high energy will serve him well this morning. As we begin to dress I can feel his adrenaline pouring off of him.

We walk out of the castle and pick out plump cows before we begin to walk to the pits on the sands. He goes over the commands with me once again as we walk. On approach I hear Silverwings song coming from the depths. She slowly begins to emerge into the light and walk to me and Ben chirping creating a small sandstorm. Ben walks to her with a smile on his face.

“Hello, my beautiful Silverwing.” he smiles up at her as she pushes against his chest.

A smile spreads across my face at how truly magnificent it is that her and Ben have that connection. I don’t know how I didn’t see the signs earlier and shake my head at my panic last night. The pits begin to thunder as Vermithor reaches his claws out.

“Daughter,” Rhaenyras voice raised in panic as she starts down the walkway with the dragon keepers close on her heel.

“Stay back.” I shake my head raising my hands to them. If this is truly going to work it needs to be just us. He needs to show Vermithor no fear and that he doesn’t need a team of people to help him. I always believed it was the bravery and determination that enticed Silverwing.

Vermithors maw reaches out into the sun as his teeth glisten in its rays. His full head reaches out at his eyes narrow on the cattle. I walk to Ben’s side and grab his hand in mine. Silverwing surrounds us with her legs as Vermithor starts to fully emerge, his claws digging into the sand.

“Daughter, please,” Rhaenyras choked words come across barely audible over Vermithor and Silverwings grumbles and chuffs.

He approaches and towers high above us looking down curiously. Silverwing rises to his height and pushes her snout to his. Vermithor chuffs and turns his head huffing his breath down on us. He backs up and lowers his head to study us as Silverwings jaws rest over him.

“Hello, my fearsome Vermithor.” Ben’s words are laced with wonder and awe as he looks to Vermithor who tilts his head ever so slightly.

“Serve me, obey me,” he turns as his hand slips out of mine as he extends his hands out to Vermithors snout. “And I shall serve and obey you.” he speaks in the common tongue and bows his head.

Vermithor breathes out deeply as he looks to Silverwing before looking back down to Ben and me. His head lowers and he pushes his snout to Ben’s outstretched hands with a low groan. My breath catches as Ben’s head snaps up to Vermithor.

“You honor me, Vermithor.” he breathes out wildly as a smile spreads across his face.

Vermithor shuts his eyes as Ben begins to bravely pat along his neck. I can hear him whispering soft words of how fearsome and handsome he is as he walks around him. Ben comes back around the other side of his body as I stand there in awe. Ben stands back and looks up to him.

“I’ve brought you something, give me a moment.” Ben’s voice laced with adrenaline as he makes his way back to the cattle.

He collects the lead the cattle are tied to as he brings them to Vermithor. He grumbles out as Ben and I step further back as he scorches them. Silverwing stomps around us to feast with him. Once they’re done we walk up to them at a loss for words, I still can’t believe the events unfolding before me.

“Shall we fly?” I look to Ben and then up at the dragons.

“Can we? My fearsome Vermithor?” his eyes light up with excitement.

Vermithor grunts and dips down for Ben to mount. I shake my head as a laugh bubbles out of me in pure amazement. I nod to him as I mount Silverwing. I watch Ben settle into the saddle and secure the clips to him. Ben leans down whispering something to Vermithor. He shakes out his spine as he starts into a run. I watch shocked as I see Vermithor take to the skies for the first time in years.

Silverwing shoots us into the sky after them as she sings a song to Vermithor. He replies with his own grumbles as I see Ben wildly laughing atop him. My heart soars as I see Vermithor push them further and twist around in the sea. Silverwing chases after them and dips us in the water.

They fly wing to wing on the breeze around the island until they land outside the pits and walk us inside. I dismount and turn to watch Ben do the same. He pats Vermithor who grumbles and turns to go rest with Silverwing. Once they’re deep in the pits he turns to me with wide eyes.

“My fearsome Ben.” I smile to him breathlessly as he runs to me.

He pulls me into a feverish kiss and his arms hold me tight. I drink in his adrenaline as we consume each other. Rhaenyra and Daemon clear their throats from the doorway as we pull apart.

“Congratulations,” Rhaenyra shakes her head in disbelief as she looks to both of us.

“You’re actually fucking mad.” Daemon chuckles nodding his head to Ben in approval.

“How was it? How do you feel?” I look to him with adoration holding his face and looking him over.

“It was amazing,” Ben shakes his head. “I feel,” he’s at a loss and I know exactly what’s going through his mind. The power and the connection are still so fresh and coursing through him.

“Go rest off the adrenaline. We can begin lessons later.” she smiles and looks relieved.

“Thank you, Rhaenyra.” Ben lowers his head as his hand grabs mine.

It feels as if there’s pure electricity flowing between us. I pull Ben back up to my chambers and seal the doors behind us. I walk to him as his hands pull me against him. I look up to him in absolute amazement as I offer him a blinding kiss. I pull away breathless before I drop to my knees before him.

“I am in awe of you,” my words barely a whisper as I look up to him. “Benjicot Blackwood. Rider of Vermithor.” adoration dripping off of my tongue as my hands travel up his legs.

“Y/n,” my name sounds like a prayer as he caresses the side of my jaw while he looks down to me with dark eyes.

I reach up and begin to unlace his trousers while blinking up to him. I see his chest rapidly rising and falling as my hand slips below and curls around him. As I free him of his trousers I take in his red, leaking tip. I lick around his tip as my fingers dance around his length. I pull back and slowly lick along the underside from his base back up while keeping eye contact with him.

“Fuck Y/n,” he pants with flushed cheeks.

I swirl my tongue around him and slowly sink my mouth down. Whatever I can’t fit in my mouth I pump with a tight fist. I hear his breath coming out in pants above me as I speed my movements. I bring my other hand up to his balls and his hand tangles itself in my hair.

“Y/n, I’m gunna-” his words are cut off with a groan as I hum around him while pushing him to the back of my throat.

I moan as his hand pulls my hair while his hips shutter and I accept everything he gives me. I slowly move my mouth off of him and offer licks to his over sensitive tip until he pulls me back by my hair. I look up to him blinking innocently while his breathing begins to settle.

I rise up to him and kiss him softly. He grunts as I help him back into his trousers and begin to lace them back up. He pulls back as our breath continues to mingle. He lets out a low chuckle and I tilt my head to him.

“Come, let me fix your hair, my Princess.” he smiles kissing the side of my head before leading me to my vanity.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

As we enter the library Rhaenyra is sitting at the table looking over old texts. A smile spreads across her face when she notices our approach. We claim seats around the circular table and wait for her word.

“I must admit I’m still in shock.” she shakes her head at a loss. “I would like explain to you what it truly means to be a dragon rider, especially during times of war.” her words become serious and we sit up straighter.

“I’m willing to do whatever is needed.” Ben nods his head.

“I know you are no stranger to battle, but with dragons it’s different. You’ve seen the advantage they offer when they’re on your side.” she nods to me. “But if you find yourself up against another dragon it will be one of the most petrifying moments of your life, if not the last.” her eyes look off as she tries to blink back tears.

My mind drifts to Luke at this line of talk. Arrax was just a baby and Luke just a boy. I understand Jaces motives, but in those first days I was thankful he was away in the North to escape my rage. My hand reaches out to hers and she offers me a sad smile before she solidifies herself and starts again.

“It will never be my want to send dragons to battle other dragons, but as of late it seems my wants are simply that: wants. Y/n will be able to assist you with learning how to control and channel emotions during high tense situations. Vermithor is very formidable and with him at Silverwings side,” she shakes her head. “You both may save us yet.” her eyes look between us.

“We will see you sit the throne.” I nod my head to her, my words a promise.

“I have had books pulled that I think will help offer assistance in learning High Valyrian. I’ve also had them bring out Visenyas old lessons in hopes that they can offer more insight. Y/n is very smart, use her knowledge to your advantage, learn everything you can from her.” she rises from the table and places her hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Thank you, Ben.” she nods her head to him and leaves us to studying.

“So you’re going to be my teacher?” he turns to me licking his lips.

“I hope you’re ready. My lessons are very rigorous.” I hum as I get up to reach across the table to grab a book.

“What do I get if I do well?” his voice low as his hands travel to my backside as I’m bent over the table.

“Benjicot Blackwood.” I scold grabbing his wrist roughly. “You will get nothing if you don’t stay focused.” I hiss as he smiles at my tinted cheeks.

“I feel like you could come up with a more creative punishment.” he whispers into my ear once I claim my seat once more.

I huff and glare at him with a fierce blush. I push a book into his lap and I leave the table to go find him more helpful books and parchments. As return I see that he has actually begun to read the book I gave him and I place more items at his side. I sit across from him and begin to look through what’s before me and begin to jot down important points.

He continues to read for an hour while I write down notes. I peek at him every once in a while as he looks through the scattered parchments around him. His eyes look up and lock with mine before I look away as I feel a blush creep up my neck.

“My love,” his low words caress my ears as my eyes shoot to his.

“My love,” my words barely a whisper.

“My love, when you blush like that it makes it hard for me not to tease you.” My cheeks heat even more to my distress. “Translate it, please.” he smirks to me.

“My love, when you blush like that it makes it hard for me not to tease you.” I look to him for him to repeat it. He doesn’t much to my frustration and I fume. “If you’re done torturing me, I have some notes I’d like to share with you.” I clear my throat as he leans back in his chair smiling to me.

“Of course, my Princess.” he looks over to me his focus attuned to my words and the knowledge I’m bestowing onto him.

“There are many commands that I would prefer to focus on before general speach. Vermithor can feel your intentions and feelings when you speak to him and pat him. I would rather you know what to say when flying than when you’re bringing our dragons food.” I look over my list of important commands and offer it to him.

“I can keep this?” he asks while scanning over the list.

“Yes, of course. Although, I should hope you would remember them and not pull out a piece of parchment mid flight.” A smirk plays on my lips.

“I shall study dutifully, but I can multitask if needed.” he folds the piece of paper slipping it into his pocket with a sly smile.

“Another important piece of information to keep in mind is that your emotions are deeply connected and not just when you’re flying together. Over time you’ll be able to feel it more intensely as you build trust and boundaries. A dragon is not a horse and will not tolerate being treated as one. Vermithor chose you and you must rise to the title he has appointed you.” I study him as he absorbs and listens to every word I speak.

“I shall be the rider he sees me as.” He nods his head and I can feel the confidence pouring off of him from across the table.

“You’ve become one of the most powerful men in the realm today.” I stroke his growing ego because the look suits him.

“I am yours first.” his words float around my heart.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Over the last fortnight Ben has learned an astonishing amount. He has his commands committed to memory and begun to focus on learning the language now. We take our dragons out flying everyday along the coasts and float on the breeze around the stoney island in the moonlight.

Tonight we flew for hours under the stars as our dragons sang to each other. As our boots touch the sand Ben twirls me into the moonlight. We dance together using the waves as our music. He holds me tightly as we continue to sway.

“You look the most divine in the moonlight.” Ben extends his arms so he can look me over.

We stroll into the castle he grabs my hand with his. I’ve been so happy and free lately that it’s hard for me to face the reality that Ben and I are going to be sent back to Harrenhal in the morning. Rhaenyra thinks it’ll be best to send us further from the Crownlands so they don’t see we’ve gained a new rider.

“Thank the Gods,” I sigh as I see my bath still streaming.

I begin stripping off my gear as Ben follows chuckling. He helps me remove the rest of my clothing before helping me dip into the bath. He pulls up a stool next to the tub to keep me company and offers me soaps and oils. He lathers soap into a cloth and offers it to me. I smile as I hold my arm and look to him.

He chuckles grabbing my arm and begins to clean me. His rough hands scrape against my skin as he tries to keep his touch light. He outstretches his hand for my other arm and I happily raise it for him. He moves around the bath and continues to clean. His hands dip into the bath to clean my legs as I look to him with heavy lids.

Every time he trails the cloth up my thigh his fingers trail along my slit. I try to control my breathing and he starts on my next leg. I spread my legs as he chuckles lowly. His fingers linger on my core before he pulls them away again.

“Ben,” I whine frustrated.

“Yes, my Princess?” I whimper at his High Valyrian and his teasing fingers that continue on my legs.

“I need you,” I look to him with pleading eyes.

“I’m right here.” he chuckles as he pulls the cloth out of the water discarding it.

“You know what I mean,” I roll my eyes at his smirk.

“Mm, enlighten me.” he licks his lips.

I push him back with a wet hand and he topples off of the stool to the ground in a fit of laughter. I rise from the bath and find a towel and begin to dry myself off as he continues to giggle from the ground. I wrap the towel around myself and look down to him before he pulls himself up to tower above me.

He kisses my furrowed brow as I continue to glare at him. He chuckles lowly as he begins to pepper kisses across my face trying to get a reaction out of me. One of his hands lands on my back and pulls me against him.

“How long are you going to pout at me?” He kisses the side of my mouth before he starts to kiss my neck while it takes all my strength not to melt into his touch.

His hand on my back scrunches the towel in his fist and pulls it from my body. I shiver at the breeze and lean into his warmth. I feel him smile against my neck as his tongue dances along my pulse. His other hand makes its way to my wetness and I bite down on my lip not wanting to give him the satisfaction. His fingers swirl around my clit causing me to shutter.

“How does that feel?” he slowly pumps a finger into me as a whimper falls from my lips as I internally groan. “Yeah, does it feel good?” he purrs as his thumb circles my clit.

My hands fly to his arms and dig in for support. I rest my forehead against his chest as he adds another finger. He continues to slowly pump them into me as I breathe heavily. A moan falls from my mouth as he curls his fingers. I focus on my breathing until he starts roughly pounding his fingers into me.

“Fuck Ben, please,” I sob into his chest giving in. Whimpers fall from my mouth as my nails dig into his arms as his fingers continue. My hips grind against his hand seeking pleasure.

“Ben,” his name slips from my mouth as my thighs squeeze around his hand as pleasure flows through me. My breathing settles as my thighs spread to release his hand.

I look up to him and his lips smother mine. His tongue pushes its way into my mouth to slide against mine. My hands begin pulling off his clothes and he brings his own hands to help speed along the process. He pushes me softly back onto the bed and settles between my legs. He grinds against my wetness before sliding in.

He slowly pulls out and looks down to my squirming body. He dips back into me pulling a whine from my lips. My legs hook around his waist hoping he’ll start moving. I start to jerk my hips trying to get my own friction.

“Gods look at you,” he growls as he watches me with dark eyes.

His movements are quick as he flips us while staying inside. He helps me adjust my position so my knees are on the bed and I begin to ride him. His fingers dig into my hips as I grind and bounce against him. I toss my head back as my hands fly to my breasts and tease my nipples.

“You’re perfect,” he groans before he attaches his thumb to my clit.

A moan rips through me as my hips grind into his faster as I use him for my pleasure. His thumb quickens its ministrations and I explode around him. My hips shutter as he removes his thumb and brings it back to my waist. I lean down and capture his lips with mine as he begins to thrust up into me. I whine against his mouth as I clench around him.

“You always feel so good, my Princess.” he murmurs against my lips as he begins to chase his own pleasure. I burry my head in his neck as my hips move to meet his as pleasure begins tearing through me again. His hips falter as he settles inside of me with my name on his lips.

I roll off of him and cuddle into his side. He turns his head and kisses me tenderly. I sigh into his mouth as I get caught up in him once more. He pulls back chuckling and pulls the blankets over us.

“Rest, we have an early morning.” he kisses my forehead as I close my eyes.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Harrenhal Pov:

The Lords get jittery as the end of the week approaches as their proper commanders are due to return with news. Jace and Baela have been able to work alongside these Lords and their men. The host works seamlessly together and had no issue integrating Baela and Jace into their everyday routine.

“How do you think Y/n will be when they arrive tomorrow?” Jace bites his lip looking to Baela.

“I think you’ll be lucky if she doesn’t pull her sword on you.” Baela chuckles as she continues to pack her bag.

“Well he lived so I don’t see what the big issue is.” Jace sighs as he claims a chair by the window.

“Oh she’ll tell you the big issue.” Baela shakes her head at him.

“I’m actually quite excited to see Vermithor in all his glory. He’s fucking mad for even attempting to claim a dragon.” Jace tries to think of the last time he’s even laid eyes upon Vermithor.

“I can see why Y/n chose him.” Baela hums tossing her bag by the door.

“Can you?” Jaces tone playful as he raises his eyebrow at her.

“You think our sister wouldn’t want the man who is known as Bloody Ben? Who is crazy enough to ride on Silverwing? The man who has now claimed Vermithor? I wouldn’t be surprised if they came back married.” she surmises before tucking her self into bed.

“Mother would never allow it without us there.” he carries himself to the bed and pulls Baela against him.

“You truly think they would ask mother?” Baela giggles resting her head on his chest.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n pov:

Silverwing glides along the clouds as I coast my fingers through them. Ben and Vermithor fly below us always watching out for potential hosts. We were lucky not to encounter anyone on the way back to Dragonstone and I’m hoping we have the same luck this early in the morning.

I sigh in relief as the towers of Harrenhal come into view. Silverwing lands by Moondancer and Vermax while Vermithor circles the castle offering a low song. The towers crumble at the reverberations and he dips and thuds on the ground next to Silverwing. I look over to Ben who gives me a wicked grin. We both dismount and lug our bags with us.

“How was the flight?” I walk up to him as Silverwing and Vermithor brush each other’s snouts affectionately.

“Thrilling.” he looks down to me and offers me a soft kiss.

“Y/n!” I hear Jaces voice behind me.

“You can come save him in one minute.” I whisper against Ben’s mouth as he looks at me curiously before I turn on my heel.

I walk up to Jace and punch him in his face. I bring my other fist up but before I can land my second blow Ben pulls me back. I glare at Jace who is now cupping his face and I look to Baela wounded.

“How dare you both?” my words laced with hurt. “You could so easily lie to my face? You can see how deeply I care for him and you would so quickly have me fly him into a dragons mouth?” I look to them waiting for their answer.

“We couldn’t risk you running away with him. Not when we need you, sister.” Baela words are soft as she looks to me.

“A warning would’ve been nice. Even a hint. Not just oh mother wants to know how the host is and she wants to meet Ben.” I narrow my eyes at her and Jace.

“Well he’s obviously fine,” Jace drawls wincing as he touches his nose.

“He’s fine!” I tilt my head back and laugh. Ben is still holding on to my arm firmly still not trusting my temper. “Let me not forget that mother told me this was your idea.” anger radiates off of me.

“Daemon suggested Ben.” Baela interrupts trying to alleviate some of my anger directed at Jace.

“Another piece of information I was denied,” I shake my head at a loss. “We are not pawns you can move about a board. Give us the respect we deserve. We raised this host. We have been holding this castle for mother.” my voice rising with each word.

“We do respect you and care for you deeply.” Baelas eyes search mine.

“Then show it. Do not keep things from me that could put the man I love within The Strangers grasp.” Ben’s hand tightens around my arm and pulls me around towards him.

“Do you mean that?” Ben looks down to me.

“Ben one min-“ I go to turn back to my siblings.

“No, no,” he turns me back to him pulling my chin to look at him. “Do you love me?” my eyes lock onto his as I finally realize my words.

“I do,” I whisper as my cheeks redden.

“Make up with your siblings and send them on their way.” the promise of what comes after is laced through his words that he whispers to me. I turn to look to Baela and Jace who are smiling at me.

“I will hear your apology. Make it quick.” I purse my lips and Ben’s hand squeezes mine at my tone.

“I’m sorry my perfect and amazing sister. I’m sorry I made the man you love claim one of the best dragons.” I roll my eyes at his words and turn to Baela.

“I’m sorry we’re still lingering when I can tell you two would like to get to,” she clears her throat. “more pressing matters.” Jaces chuckles with her.

“Apologies accepted.” I nod my head. “I saw no hosts or dragons on the way here so you both should have safe travels home.”

They smile to me and come hug me as I groan. Jace shakes Ben’s hand and congratulates him. They offer us waves as their dragons chuff before shooting them into the sky.

“So you love me?” Ben looks down to me smiling widely.

“Do you love me?” I look up to him.

“I don’t know, I mean, I thought we were pretty casual.” my nostrils flare at his taunting words as he continues to smile at me.

“Benjicot,” I warn through my teeth.

“I have loved you for a while now,” pulls me to him shushing me.

“Well say it then.” I look up to him expectantly.

“I love you.” his eyes search mine.

I grab his hand and pull him after me back into the gates. As we try to rush through the main hall the Lords stop us and welcome us back. The energy between us is crackling and I have no idea how the Lords can’t see or feel it.

“Why is there another dragon here?” one of the Lords towards the back asks.

“I’ve claimed him.” Ben says looking to all of the Lords.

“You?” hushed murmurs spread throughout the hall.

“Yes, now if you’ll excuse us. We’ve had a long flight and would like to rest. We will have a meeting later.” He dismisses the Lords and pulls us up the steps to our chambers.

He seals the doors and stalks over to me. We pull each other’s clothes off in a rush, backing up in hopes of landing on the bed. A loud groan cuts through me as he walks me back into a table.

“Ow,” I whine clutching on to him.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out kissing me once more.

He lifts me up into the lip of the table and thrusts into me a moment later. The table groans against his rough pace as I whimper clinging to him. His lips kiss and bite across my neck as I toss my head back.

“I don’t know what it is,” Ben grunts as his hips continue to snap into mine.

“What?” the word is followed by a loud moan.

“All I want to do is fuck you, it’s all I think about lately.” he pants as his fingers dig into my hips.

I come undone at his words as I cry out his name. He continues to pound into me as my back thuds against the table. He reaches down to pinch my nipples. My hands rest over his wrists as he continues to pull and twist. My legs begin to shake around him as I explode feeling him fill me.

“Ben,” I whine pulling him down to me. I keep him against me as our breathing settles. When we finally pull apart we walk back to the bed with flushed cheeks.

“I know what you mean about what you said earlier.” my voice hushed as he crawls into bed after me.

“What?” he looks to me curiously.

“I think of you all day, like more than normal.” I feel my cheeks flush.

“Mm, what is the normal amount of times to think about me between your thighs?” he smirks.

“I’m sure it’s not every time I’m around you. I feel like it could have something to do with our dragons being so closely bonded as we are. I should send word to my mother to see if she can send books,” I ramble as he begins to chuckle.

“And tell her what? That you think about me fucking you too much?” he shakes his head laughing as his hands slide against my thigh.

“Ben,” I warn but it comes out more breathy.

“Really? That fast?” he teases me, continuing to ghost his fingers on my bare leg.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌

when this was supposed to be a one shot and now i’m sad at the thought of even finishing this fic 🥲

Part 5

#ben blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood smut #benji blackwood #benjicot x reader #benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood x reader #fancast bloody ben #bloody ben hotd #bloody ben smut #bloody ben x reader #hotd x reader #x reader imagine #x reader smut #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #bloody ben fluff

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bigtedbear · 7 months ago

Text

“ 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 “

𝐩𝐫𝗼𝗺𝐩𝐭 : 𝗺𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐚𝐧! 𝐝𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝗼𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝗼 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝗺𝐢𝐝 𝐜𝗼𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧

Content warnings : nsfw content ahead, 18+ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈, dragon anatomy..., breeding kink, unsafe sex (don't be silly, wrap up your willy), yandere themes, implied intent to baby trap, mlm, bl, gay sex, anal sex, idk if this counts as dubcon on either end??? (reader says no a lot but it's out of respect for dan heng rather than not wanting to????" ~7.5k words? (don't quote me, I'm guesstimating)

“ new contact noted! caller 𝚒𝚕 𝚍𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚗𝚐 has been added to your phonebook - love, 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑡-19 “

"Please remember, this conversation isn't meant to make you feel uncomfortable in any way possible, I understand the questions we're moving onto may be..." Your fingers halted on your keyboard, mulling over your choice of words carefully. ..."uncomfortable to answer or inappropriate to ask." You finally pried your eyes away from your screen to make eye contact with the archivist. "So, please, please, feel free to decline to answer any questions, ask to take a break, or end the questions entirely."

How lovely; that you were so oblivious, Dan Heng noted in his mind. He'd been clearly eyeing you up over the table for the entire hour the two of you had discussed the history of the Vidyadhara. Yet, despite the glances you stole at him to make occasional eye contact while you took your notes, you had yet to notice anything amiss.

Not the abundance of information flowing past his lips, eager to please and more than willing to tell you anything and everything you wanted to hear from him; not the hopelessly lost look in his eyes, turquoise tracing each and every little different movement you made as you typed away; not even the clear and obvious rubbing of his thighs together; the clammy, shaky nature of his hands and each and every one of their careful movements; not even the obvious red hue that blotted his cheeks and flushed the tips of his pointy ears a bashful pink.

"Of course."

You nodded, a silent acknowledgement as you consulted a clipboard you'd pushed off to the side for the relevant questions you'd been meaning to ask. "You stated previously that the extent any Vidyadhara manifests more draconic features is reliant on their previous lives, is there any distinctions between those who outwardly display these traits?"

"Yes, no new Vidyadharas can be born, only through rebirth do any vidyadhara children come to be." He bit his lip, letting his thoughts ruminate, "Because of this, those who hold certain titles and authorities maintain this authority in all of their lives once they've regained memories of their past. While there are distinctions between Vidyadharas, it's not so much based on how we present but how we present is related to how strong our affinity is to certain rites and abilities related to our predecessors."

He tried to wipe his clammy hands off on his pants, but felt no relief at all. There was some kind of anxiety brewing inside of him and he couldn't pin what was causing it. It didn't help that you were moving onto the biology section of your questions, intimate knowledge of his body that nobody else knew. It brought him some comfort that your own cheeks were tinted a light pink out of general embarrassment.

He felt himself settle down more, but he also knew these would be the easy questions. It wasn't as though things would get more simple, to come up with complex questions, you'd need to know the basics.

Aeons, the things he would do just to steal your attention for just a few, fleeting moments.

Dan Heng's stomach dropped.

It shouldn't have showed up for at least another month, he realized. There hadn't been any sign of his heat rearing its ugly head in the slightest as of late.

He would know, he consistently tracked any and all symptoms for cases like this. He dreaded the idea of being stuck on a trailblazing mission and suddenly going into heat, but this was arguably a million times worse.

Dan Heng's idea of the most attractive man in the cosmos, sitting across from him with only a small coffee table separating them. He'd let out his horns and tails so you could sketch them down on a spare sheet of paper and you were far too close for his self-restraint's comfort. He carefully licked over his teeth in his mouth, hoping to find some kind of way to slip away from the conversation in due time. However, all hopes of this were dashed when you sheepishly made a small request of him.

"Do you think I could get a look at your fangs?"

He felt his entire body light aflame with red, hot desire tucked beneath a careful casing of embarrassment entwined with dread.

Upon noticing his apprehension, you were careful to notify him that he didn't need to do anything for you in the slightest. "I understand if that's uncomfortable, I would never want to force you to do anything that would cross any boundaries of yours. You can say-"

"Sure."

You blinked at him owlishly, snapping your jaw shut quietly. Doing your best to not miss a beat or make Dan Heng uncomfortable, you tried (and failed) to regain your composure and reinstate your more professional demeanor. Much to your chagrin, your pink cheeks and stammering gave you away. "Oh, I, uh, Alright-" you cleared your throat, gazing down at your clipboard nervously, "Whenever you're ready."

He opened his mouth slowly, allowing his fangs to be put on full display. His breath hitched in his mouth when you stood up from the couch across from him to sitting on the couch next to him. He could feel his heartbeat picking up and more heat pooling between his thighs when you started scooting in closer.

He squirmed under your watchful eyes, pitifully aroused and unbearably hot, but unable to do anything about it. You made quick work of sketching the basics of his dental layout, noting sharper fangs but also his forked tongue. You made a quiet observation, but you were hesitant to ask for further clarification.

"I- Nevermind."

Dan Heng did his best to keep his voice and breathing steady, but he couldn't help the tremble in his voice when he asked "What is it?"

You shook your head, "Your dental structure and the curvature of your fangs is similar to that of a few snake species I've had the ability to work with." You hesitated again to continue. But the sharp turquoise eyes on you made you feel an obligation to explain yourself, "I wanted to see if you, well, if you might have a Jacobson's organ but-" you cut yourself off again. You bit the inside of your cheek, squeezing out the last bit of your explanation quickly, "the location of the organ is in a bit of a compromising positions and it'd be so, so inappropriate of me to ask if I could see it-"

"I'm fine with that."

You froze, your face erupting in a flaming red as you stuttered over yourself, trying to explain the implications of looking at someone's Jacobson Organ. The little sadist in Dan Heng's heart was ecstatic to watch you get flustered, to watch you try to be as respectful as possible and keep that platonic wall firmly between the two of you.

He could feel it slowly starting to crack, continuing to shift in his seat as he waited for you to quiet down and actually get on with it. He murmured out a quiet affirmation that he truly was fine with it.

"I know what it means to look at it, I'm telling you I don't mind."

You averted eye contact for a moment before gulping down some spit and carefully setting your pen down on your clipboard, you hesitantly reached towards his face. You stopped about a foot away, inquiring meekly, "May I?"

He was quick to nod, a little too quick to be completely innocent. You didn't seem to pick up on it though, capturing his jaw between your pointer finger and thumb. He relished the skin on skin contact, drunk on the way your skin felt cool and welcoming on his own burning temperature.

You tilted his head up to get a look at the roof of his mouth, spotting the small mass behind the top front row of his teeth. You did your best to make quick observations so you didn't need to embarrass dan heng anymore than he most likely already was.

He, on the other hand, didn't want the moment to end. You were so close to him, your face just barely a foot away from his, looking at an intimate part of his anatomy. His eyes were half-lidded, sweat accumulating on his forehead rapidly. He didn't know why he didn't check out of the questionnaire the moment he knew his heat was coming on, but somewhere in the haze of his brain there was a small inkling as to why.

The longer your hand lingered on his chin, he could feel your pheromones start to waft up his nose and it was getting hard to see straight. The Jacobson's Organ itself was an organ meant to signal and interpret both signs of aggressive from others of your species, but also to signal a willingness to mate. Dan Heng's was sending electric signals pulsing through his cranium every second you peered at it from his jaw.

When your hand tried to retract from his jaw, he grabbed your wrist and pressed it onto his cheek.

It was only then you realized just how quickly his skin was rising in temperature.

He writhed on your mattress, your smell wafting addictively through the air as he did his best to peel his clothes off. He wasn't having much success, the sweat having just about fused it with his skin. You had rushed off earlier somewhere with a few words he couldn't hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

He only managed to yank off his large overcoat and kick off his shoes and socks when you returned to the room. He was fumbling with various buttons and zippers on his top when you burst through your bedroom door with just about as many pillows and blankets as you could find in the short time you were gone.

You were fumbling over your words apologizing for not realizing sooner, saying you assumed Vidyadhara didn't have heat periods because they reproduced asexually. Your voice was in one ear and out the other as his fingers weakly and clumsily tried to pull his shirt over his head, but he noted that your arms were loaded to the brim with plush, soft, luxury pillows and blankets.

Nesting materials.

He was growing more and more desperate to get his clothes off of him as you dropped the pillows and blankets on the bed, apologizing over and over with a red face. He gave a needy huff when his fingers dropped the clasp of his shirt again. He couldn't get it off of him and he could feel frustrated tears settling in.

That was, until you started helping him out of his clothes.

You noticed his struggles and tentatively asked him if he needed help in this honey sweet voice, always stopping between each and every article of clothing you tenderly stripped off of him to make sure he was sure he was okay with you helping him out.

Soon enough he was left in nothing but his boxers as you excused yourself to start building up his nest for his comfort. You promised him you'd contact Caelus or someone else from the express to pick him up or at the very least explain the situation. He didn't answer, just about writhing in the middle of the bed, mind going fuzzy with the overwhelming feeling of you surrounding him.

He felt comfortable as he watched the plush walls being built around him, clutching on your blanket in particular as he could feel his hips begin rutting pathetically against the mattress. He buried his face in the soft fabric to try and hide his shame, all while huffing in your scent like cocaine.

Too many sensations, to many sounds, to many smells, his body concluded; throwing him into a haze of seeking blind release on your blanket. He hadn't even noticed you calling for his attention from next to your nightstand, setting down a pager and some water.

"-an Heng! Dan Heng!"

He finally snapped his eyes up to gaze at you, a little bit of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth and his eyes glassy.

You gulped down some saliva to wet your dry throat before continuing, "I'm leaving, but there's a pager on the nightstand if you need anything."

There was some kind of deep noise that escaped from his throat, at the thought of you leaving. "Where are you going?"

You raised a hand, trying your best to dissuade his worries. "I'm at fault for this mess, I can just crash in Arlan's room or find a temporary one. I can't possibly ask you to move during your heat period."

He dragged himself closer to the edge of the bed, closer to you, as he tried his best to stop his hips from rutting against the wall of pillows and blankets you hastily built up for him. "You can st-stay." There was rumbling in his throat, one you realized was purring. He was trying to entice you into bed with him.

Your face pulsed a deep crimson as you vehemently shook your head, "You aren't in your right mind, I would never even think of taking advan-"

He whined, grabbing blindly for your arms as his hips started to move against the wall of pillows. "Need- Need something, someone, need you-" he cut himself off with a curse as he felt a growing knot of arousal build up more in his stomach.

At this point he was pulling on your arms, trying to pull you in closer, down into the nest. His torso lunging forward to press his face into the skin of your neck, he was just about whimpering directly into your ear while humping the bed.

"D-Dan Heng, you're in heat, I couldn't do something like that to you-" you stammered, trying to draw away from him. His insistent groveling was starting to get to you.

He tried pulling you down into the nest again, hands reaching up to your shoulders to push off the pristine white coat you usually wore. His little whimpers were growing desperate, practically begging for you to take care of him.

Your hands gripped his wrists, sending another spark of arousal up his spine, he couldn't even hear your next words, "This isn't right, you probably wouldn't be talking to me like this if you weren't in heat."

His thighs shook under him, looking at you with half-lidded eyes as you put your coat back on your shoulders so you could leave. "Wait-Wait, please don't go- ah~"

"If you need anything, I left a pager on the nightstand. When your heat is over we can talk-"

He whined his protests, but you adamantly let go of his wrists and he could feel himself getting more and more desperate to keep you in his nest as your delicious scent wafted away from him. "I think of you so, so muchhhsh, it's not just the heat." He mewled when he brought your blanket to his nose.

He let out an unintentional purr when you stopped just short distance away from your door. You turned to look at him. He pushed his hips against the fabric of the blanket and the sheets, already soaking both his boxers and your precious blanket with the scent of sex. "Y-You never talk to me unless you need to know something- agh~" his hips stuttered against the mattress again. "Have you ever considered my feelings?" He let out another moan when he ground particularly hard into the bed.

"What are you talking about?"

He keened when he felt your attention on him again, really playing up the pathetic act he was putting on. "Twice a year- hah~" he practically melted against your bed when he found the right angle to move his hips at, picking up the pace quickly. "-you're all I can think about. Alone in my room while the others are gone and I'm making a mess of myself."

He let out another drawn out whimper when you stepped closer to the bed, "Y-You never even spared me more than a glance- hngh~" he grunted when your blanket slid against the mess he was making of your bed, "I wanted you soooo ba-had~"

He crawled over to the edge of his nest to where you were standing, doing his best to reach out to you and make some kind of contact with your skin. "I want you- mmmnnhg~ right now, I n-need you here-" he gave a whine when you interlaced your fingers with him, his hips growing faster against the wall of the nest. "I want y-your, ouhh~, want your heellpppp-"

You considered your options carefully. Dan Heng certainly wasn't bad looking, in fact, you could feel yourself getting a less than respectable boner at the sight of him basically bashing his hips against your blanket. You had his prior consent, knowledge of an... intimate attraction at the very least. Last but not least, you felt partially responsible for the state he was in, despite his heat cycle having nothing to do with you.

You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek as Dan Heng put the hand intertwined with his own to his nose, sucking in the smell of your skin harshly. He was basically having the time of his life, eyes squeezed shut and his grunts and groans getting pitchier and pitchier with each passing moment.

You supposed you had to take responsibility for his little mess.

You let out a little groan of pain into his vent when he tugged harshly at your hair. He was just about jerking you further into his nether regions with one hand while he looped his fangs around one of his fingers on the other. His tail squeezed your upper bicep. You were laying on your stomach, going down on him with his legs thrown over you shoulders.

His little whimpers and whines weren't much to go off when it came to seeing what he liked most. Instead, you would go off the little things like the twitch of his thighs around your head or the way his hand tightened in your hair. There were actually a few things you figured out would get him to jerk his hips up into your mouth. Specifically, he really liked it when you managed to get your tongue inside his cloaca and tease the tips of his cocks.

You pulled your mouth off of his hips, relishing in his small protest. He keened, his hips chasing after your slick stained lips. You ignored his nonverbal begging for more, instead snuggly wrapping your biceps around his hips and squaring them back down on the pillow he was propped up on. You hadn't exactly done anything like this before, but that definitely didn't mean you weren't willing to learn.

Instead of going back in to continue teasing his slit, you focused your attention on what was slowly everting out of it. Your thumb traced over the slit of the dick that had just barely begun poking its head out his vent. You earned a muffled groan from Dan Heng, who was doing his best to muffle his noises on his finger. For his own dignity, you let him.

You tentatively licked over the tip just to gauge his sensitivity and were kindly rewarded with more of his cock sliding out and the second one just barely sliding emerging as well. The precum oozing off the tips tasted just like his slick, mouth numbingly sweet. It wasn't any kind of flavored sweet, actually it was almost like drinking a mouthful of sugar water; something you mentally took note of.

His fingers were just about digging into your scalp now, pushing your face down closer to him. He was trying to wiggle his hips up closer to your mouth, but your arms kept him firmly pressed down as you continued to mercilessly tease him. He sucked in a sharp breath when you finally took one in your mouth, going down slowly until your nose was flush with his pubic bone. You traced over the underside with an experimental flick of the tongue.

In turn, his thighs twitched to clamp your head in place, delivering a delicious pressure that kept you locked in between his legs. You felt the heel of his foot push into your back right between your shoulder blades. He tugged on your hair again, letting out a pathetic hiccup when you maneuvered your hand underneath his little leg lock to tease the opening of his vent.

He shivered deliciously when you groaned against him again, finally prying his thighs away from the sides of your head. You traced the outline of his cloaca slowly, sensually; causing his other hand to join in on tugging your head closer to his dripping sex. You rose off of his erection with plenty of spit and precum dangling from your lips, glinting in the low light.

His fingers carded through your hair as you finally got up from between his legs, crawling on top of him and pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. Your breath was hot on his face and he could feel the sweat dripping on his brow as he locked his legs around your waist to pull you down on top of him.

One of your hands traced little patterns up the outside of his thigh and up to his little hip dips. You kept your voice low, trying not to overwhelm him since he was already trying to force his hips up higher to grind on your own erection. "As much as I'd love to keep going like we were, I want to hear what you want to do."

He seemed to lack the ability to answer, coherent thoughts transitioning to jumbled syllables and begging the moment they moved past his lips. He finally managed to raise his hips high enough to rut on the inside of your thigh, tears slowly welling up in his eyes. He was getting overwhelmed, your scent and your touch and the things you were making him feel drowned him in an ocean of white hot flames, boiling him alive with all the sensations sending a pleasant buzz through all of his nerves.

"Hm? Dan heng?" You cooed into his ear, he took in a sharp inhale, letting out a breathy huff in response. He kept rutting up against the inside of your thigh, his dicks standing at full attention and weeping precum all over your skin. Once again, he couldn't respond, letting out little huffs and groans into your neck while he tried to chase the feeling of completion.

You used the hand that was gently caressing his thigh to push his hips back down towards the bed. Chastising him gently for not answering you, "C'mon, I can't help you if you don't tell me how I can help, sweetheart."

He could feel the hot wet trails of tears running down his face as he started crying. He sniffled pathetically as his hips struggled against the strength of your arm keeping them pinned down by the waist. His hands moved from your hair to your shoulders, trying to use them to get more leverage to try and fight against your grip. "I- I-"

"Yes?" You purred, placing a kiss to the side of his neck. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, eyelids fluttering shut as he tried to put more effort towards thinking. "What do you want from me, Heng?"

He whimpered at the mention of his name, "I don't know- I don't know-" he hiccupped, his fingernails leaving crescent marks in your shoulders, "I want to feel good, I-" a sniffle, "-touch me, please touch me agaainn..."

"Good," your murmured against his skin, "Just a little bit more, you're being so good for me," you placed a few more kisses up his neck until you met his jawline, "Where do you want me to touch you? How do you want me to touch you?"

His tail squeezed around your thigh, shaking as tried to ground himself enough to answer. He pressed his foot further into your back to bring your body down closer. He whimpered, "-Inside" his fingers trailed up to your jawline, "I- I want it inside." He held your face in his hands to make eye contact with him.

In all his teary eyed glory, you still managed to find the willpower to hold back and tease him just a little more, "What do you want inside?" He whined, roughly bringing your forehead to touch his. You pressed an innocent peck to his lips, "Last question, Heng, What do you want inside?"

He keened, chasing after your lips, almost yelling against your mouth, "YOU! I want YOU insiiihiidddeee~"

You curse against his lips, "...ah fuck," you suck a sharp breath between your teeth. You dot kisses on his face, holding him in a soft missionary. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?" You were scared to hurt him, trying to help him relax a little bit.

Dan Heng, on the other hand, was barely cognizant, eyes squeezed shut as little tears poured down the sides of his face. Was it from the pain? No, rather it was from relief.

"good, good, so good-" he babbled, arms looped around your neck as he tried to push himself backwards and further up on the pillow propped under his pelvis.

You gently stroked his hair away from his face, thumbing away the tears on his cheek. You gently pushed another couple of inches into him, causing him to let out a shaky moan. You kissed him on his sweat-caked forehead, shushing him as he cried pathetically underneath you. "You're doing so good, such a good boy, almost there, promise."

"Ahnnn~" he squirmed under the praise, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth, "deeper, please," he sniffled, "-please, deeper,"

You nodded, starting to push just a little bit in further, stopping when his tail smacked unceremoniously against your back. His back arched up against the bed in an open mouthed scream, just about seeing stars when you brushed past his prostate. He kept drooling, hiccupping and whining for you to keep going.

You finally bottomed out, ultimately noticing just the smallest bump protruding on his mid-section. His hands were scratching lines down your back, his mouth pressed shut tight and his jaw tense. Tears continued to stream down the side of his face as muffled murmurs and whimpers bounced around the inside of his taut lips.

You latched onto the side of his neck, placing a delicate kiss before starting to suck a light hickey into his pale, pale skin. He shuddered under the simple touch, a broken, humiliating purr resonating from his throat.

He sniffled again, sobbing, "P-Please, just move, I can't wait- ouhhh~"

You unlatched from his neck, kissing the just barely red skin gently before drawing your hips away from his pelvis. He let out a long drawn out moan, his voice cracking in the middle of it. You pulled until your length was about halfway out, snapping your hips forward as gently as you could.

He let out a yelp, thighs twitching and clamping down on both sides of your waist. After a small pause, you repeated the same thing, earning another broken squeak. You set the pace slower just so you knew Dan Heng wouldn't be too overwhelmed. He laid there, largely limp for a short period of time, voice cracking and tears streaming down the sides of his face.

Eventually, when he seemed to get used to the feeling, his broken moans turned into purrs and huffy groans. His hips started to rock back against yours, hands balling up and relaxing into fists behind your neck. He reached for your face, a little bit less out of it and pulled you in for a sloppy kiss.

The first thing you were met with was his teeth clacking against yours before his long forked tongue ran over your bottom lip. You teasingly nipped at his lip, earning a purr as he parted his tips more the let you take control of the kiss.

It was around then that you got a more devious idea. You played nice to begin with, feeling around the inside of his mouth with your tongue, but eventually, when his whines started to get louder, you decided it'd be the right time to push him over the edge. Cheekily, you smiled into the kiss before pressing your tongue right on top of Dan Heng's Jacobson's organ.

You only had a split second to register that you'd actually done it before Dan Heng all but screamed into your mouth and the two of you were graced with white painting both of your chests.

You rocked your hips forward slowly working him through the intensity of it. You finally bottomed out again and stilled, pulling away from his lips.

To your surprise, however, Dan Heng's fingers moved from the back of your neck to tangling themselves in your hair. He was panting, teary eyes glassy and glazed as he pushed his chest closer to yours.

His lips parted, ghosting over your own lips as he begged, "Do that again, Ouh~ Please, please do that again, mhhhh~" His hips continued to rock back against yours but they weren't getting all that far; he was basically just grinding himself on the based of your cock.

You hesitated for a moment before tentatively locking lips with him again. At his insistence, you started to move again, but shallowly and slowly. He grunted into the kiss, tugging on your hair to show his disapproval. You huffed into the kiss before almost completely pulling out before shoving your hips forward harshly. He made a choked noise, just about having the wind knocked out of him at the sudden change.

You pulled away from the kiss, feeling a little mean as you rested your head in the crook of his neck. "Wow, I didn't know you could be so greedy, Heng. You already came once and you're begging me to go harder?"

"Please- hah~ please, I feel like I'm going crazy-"

You kissed the shell of his pointed ear, drinking in the little noise you got in response before humming and catching his lips again. Maintaining about the same pace as before, you started knocking the air of him continuously with each thrust. You started toying with the forked tongue in his mouth and slyly sliding your tongue over his fangs.

He let out a drawn out moan into the kiss, pushing his face against yours harder. He tried coaxing you further into his mouth, just about begging you to inject the bundle of nerves with just about the highest concentration of your pheromones he could get.

Still, you played hard to get, wrapping your tongue in his. In your focus on him, you didn't notice your pace was picking up as you got closer to your own orgasm. Eventually, when he gave a particularly harsh tug to your hair did you finally relent.

However, while you gave into tonguing over the roof on his mouth, you also wrapped a large hand around the two painfully red cocks bouncing against both of your stomachs. He squealed into your mouth, thighs trying to squeeze shut and protect himself from the onslaught of sensations. When he finally forgot his requests for you to put your tongue on the little bump on the roof of his mouth, did you let him have his way.

His eyes snapped open, pupils rolling up into his skull as you continued to stroke him and shove your tongue into the top of his mouth. He fell limp in your arms, fingers only staying attached to your hair because they'd just about knotted themselves in your locks.

You felt the pit in your own stomach starting to get tighter, eliciting a set of groans into Dan Heng. You sped up your pace, knocking Dan Heng out of his little stupor as his hands tugged about as hard on your hair as they could without pulling out any chunks. He was back to crying while you were just about fucking him open and drinking in the noises he was screaming out into your own mouth.

Finally, you let out a finally, deep, guttural moan as you bottomed out and finally spilled your seed inside of him. His back arched and his mouth fell open in a lewd moan, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he spurted all over your stomachs again.

"yesyesyesyesyesyes-umffff~"

You panted as you shoved his face into the pillow by the neck with one hand while the other carved bruises into his hips in the shape of your fingers. It'd been a couple hours later and Dan Heng was absolutely insatiable.

You supposed you should've expected it, seeing as he's in heat and all, but you didn't expect him to have nearly enough energy to keep going for the rest of the afternoon and into the early hours of the morning. Well, it was probably easier for him to keep going than you. After all, you were the one that was actually putting in the majority of effort to keep pile driving him into the sheets.

You grunted as you pressed your chest onto his back, watching the way his tail rattled in the air in contentment. Your hips were consistently slapping against his ass, his hands clutching at the pillow you'd shoved his face into mere seconds earlier.

His happy, fucked out noises were difficult to hear from the plush, comfortable pillows, but more audible now that you were closer to his face. You pressed a handful of kisses down his spine before reaching your hand around to his front. Originally, you were going to try and stroke him through another orgasm, but instead, the hand that was formerly on his neck ghosted over the bump you were creating in his stomach. He let out a noise into the pillow that was as delectable as sin. His entire body spasming when you applied pressure onto the same point.

After a couple of hours in, his cum had thinned to the point he was just shooting blanks at this point. His cock was an angry, crimson red from the amount of times it'd actually gotten off. Just like now, his entire body tensed, but nothing actually came out.

So instead, you pressed harder on the bulge, watching in delight how his body fell limp and he stopped rocking back to meet your rough, quick thrusts forward.

It was cute for the first couple of minutes, watching him weakly moan into the pillow and claw at the sheets underneath him to try and ground himself from the heaven you were currently sending him to. But as of now, your own hips were starting to get tired. Your thighs were burning after about three hours of copulation, but you also knew the moment you stopped, Dan Heng would be alert again, demanding your attention again. Sigh, so needy.

Taking matters into your own hands, quite literally actually, you traced up his stomach before curving it around to the side and resting it on his hips. You starting tugging his hips back onto your dick, listening to the sweet mewls he let out as he turned to press only one side of his face into the pillow.

Still not quite satisfied with the amount of friction generated from using his hips as handholds, you turned your attention to the rather large solution position just a few inches away on his spine.

A devious grin broke out on your face before you ghosting your hands over the base of it, taking special satisfaction from the way his eyes widened. The next moment, your hand was wrapped around his tail and his eyes were rolling back up into his skull, low moans turning into high pitched squeals as the end of his tail rather weakly whacked against your shoulder.

Once again, you were just so close to getting to your own peak, you meanly wrapped your other hand just above the other one, sending him jolting forward towards the headboard. He finally picked his front half up from the bed sheet and clutched the top of the headboard, resting his head on it as his nails dug into the wood. You were a little concerned when you heard it start to splinter, but you dismissed it for when your thoughts were cloudy with making sure Dan Heng definitely wouldn't be able to think about anyone else during any of his following heats.

Finally, the moment came when the pooling heat in your stomach exploded and unleashed another load inside of him, prompting him to scream as just the tiniest few drops of crystalline cum shot from his angry red tip.

Once again, when you stilled to try and catch your breath to see if Dan Heng was finally satisfied, the way he looked back at you, despite the drool dripping down his chin and dried tear tracks on his cheeks, was pleading with you to keep going. He punctuated it with pushing his hips back against your softening cock again.

Horny little bastard.

During the last few rounds, Dan Heng had started becoming rather verbal. Not to be confused with vocal, he was vocal since foreplay started. No, he started talking a lot the more and more energy you were losing.

At this point, you were much too worn out to wonder why. A few flitting thoughts trailed through your head, but were quickly knocked out of you the more you snapped your hips forward and the sweet sound of Dan Heng's hoarse cries replaced them.

"Sooo fullllll~" he mewled, riding slowly. The height he was rising was getting less and less as his pace was getting slower. His voice was slowly starting to slur the longer he was on top. He held an inflated stomach with one hand, using the other shaky arm to support himself on your chest.

Soon enough though, his arm gave out on him and let himself rest his head on your chest, hips still insisting on moving, though he was barely rising. "Ghonna get pregnaannnttt~" he purred into your ear. You lazily hummed an affirmation in his ear. Eyes half-lidded in exhaustion as you watched him use the last bit of energy he had to try and reach one more orgasm.

"Ghonna have your babyyy~" he cooed, his hips finally resting on your pelvis. He moved his pelvis in little circles, what little energy he had left diminishing exponentially the longer he went on. He whined out your name when your eyes shut.

"I'm listening, Dan Heng," you affirmed, sleeping hand coming to rest on the small of his back while the other cupped his cheek.

"You have to stay with me if I have your baby~" he complained, "you can't ever leave me."

You raised an eyebrow at his words, but chalked it up to a horny dragon that was giving into his mating instincts. "Yes, Heng. I won't leave you or the baby."

There was a weak purr that emitted from his throat, his hips finally stilling flush with your own. "Would jyou make me yohur wifeee..."

You hummed into his skin, "Mhm..." you rubbed a thumb across his cheek, letting him settle into his cute little domestic dream. "My pretty wife and our baby."

You could feel a smile stretch across his face against the skin on your chest. You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair. His hands pressed up against your abdomen, resting there as you felt him burrow his nose right in between your pectorals. "Prhomishe?"

You twirled a piece of his hair around your finger, mumbling out a half-awake, "Promise."

With that, you could feel his breathing relax and small snores emit from his mouth. Without moving all that much, your own arm lazily grabbed at a blanket, throwing it over the both of you before letting yourself also drift off into the land of dreams.

Before that though, there really was only one thing left on your mind...

How exactly were you supposed to survive the rest of his heat if this was going to be your everyday?

there a small note on the side of the phone booth, read it?

" i fear this is the filthiest thing I've ever written and I will be doing it again soon. "

THIS IS A REPOSTED WORK FROM MY ORIGINAL ACCOUNT BEFORE IT CRAPPED AND DIED ON ME

I USED TO BE FOUND AT @steadybear

I FEAR YOU WILL HAVE TO DEAL WITH SEEING @bigtedbear INSTEAD FROM NOW ON

Part 2 here: " results: inconclusive "

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moonlight-joy · 4 days ago

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The Rogue’s Claim

Fandom: House of Dragon

Summary: You are a noblewoman from a powerful Valyrian house that rivals the Targaryens. Your betrothal to another man doesn’t sit well with Daemon, who has desired you for years. On the eve of your wedding, Daemon sneaks into your chambers with an outrageous proposal.

Pairing: Reader/Daemon Targaryen

The grand halls of your family’s estate shimmered with opulence. Gilded candelabras lined the walls, casting a golden glow over the silk tapestries that depicted the glory of your Valyrian lineage. Tomorrow, the estate would host a wedding—your wedding. Yet as the eve of your union approached, you felt no joy, no anticipation. Only dread.

You sat by the window of your chambers, the soft light of the moon spilling over your silver hair, a trait that marked your Valyrian heritage. The weight of your betrothal hung heavy on your heart. It was a strategic match, one that would secure your family’s power and elevate their standing even further. But it was not a match of your choosing.

And it was not with him.

Daemon Targaryen. The Rogue Prince. The man who had haunted your thoughts and your dreams for years. His presence had always been magnetic, his charm as dangerous as the fire that ran through his veins. You had known from the start that he was trouble. Yet, no matter how much you tried to bury your feelings, Daemon had ignited a flame within you that refused to die.

Tonight, that flame would consume you.

The soft creak of the door startled you from your thoughts. You turned sharply, your heart pounding as a shadow slipped into the room. The firelight caught on silver hair and violet eyes, and you knew instantly who it was.

“Daemon,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “What are you doing here?”

He smirked, the corner of his mouth curling in that infuriatingly confident way. “You didn’t think I’d let you go so easily, did you?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said, though your words lacked conviction. “If my family finds you…”

“Let them find me,” he interrupted, stepping closer. His voice was low, dangerous, filled with the kind of promise that made your pulse race. “If I can’t have you, no one will.”

You stood, your hands clutching the fabric of your gown as if it could anchor you. “Daemon, please. Tomorrow, I—”

“Tomorrow, you’ll bind yourself to a man you don’t love,” he growled, his eyes blazing with anger and desperation. “A man who doesn’t deserve you. Do you think I’ll stand by and watch that happen?”

Tears stung your eyes as his words cut through you. “And what would you have me do?” you asked, your voice breaking. “If I leave with you, I lose everything.”

Daemon reached for you, his hands warm and steady as they cupped your face. “No,” he said, his tone softening. “You gain everything. You gain freedom. You gain love. You gain me.”

Your breath hitched as his words settled over you. For years, you had dreamed of this moment, of him choosing you, fighting for you. Yet the weight of duty and family loyalty bore down on you like chains.

“They’ll never forgive me,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “My family… the realm…”

“Let them burn,” Daemon said fiercely. “You are fire itself. You don’t belong to them. You belong to me, as I belong to you.”

The intensity in his gaze, the raw vulnerability beneath his defiance, broke something inside you. Tears slipped down your cheeks, and Daemon’s thumb gently wiped them away. “Say the word, and we’ll leave tonight,” he urged. “We’ll run far away from all of this.”

“And where would we go?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“Anywhere,” he replied. “Everywhere. As long as we’re together.”

Your heart warred with your mind. The life you had been raised to embrace, the expectations placed upon you—they all paled in comparison to the man standing before you, offering you his heart and his freedom.

Finally, you whispered, “Take me away from here.”

The night air was crisp as you and Daemon slipped through the shadows of your family’s estate. Without dragons to carry you, the journey ahead would be long and treacherous. But Daemon had planned for this. Two horses waited just beyond the gates, their breaths misting in the cold night air.

Daemon helped you mount, his hands lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. “Stay close to me,” he said, his voice firm. “No matter what happens.”

“I will,” you promised, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and exhilaration.

The two of you rode through the night, the sound of hooves echoing against the silence. The world seemed to blur around you, the weight of your decision pressing against your chest. Yet, for the first time in years, you felt alive.

As the journey stretched on, you found solace in Daemon’s presence. Around campfires under starlit skies, he spoke of a future where no one could dictate your fate. His words painted a vision of freedom, of a life where you could simply be together without the weight of expectation.

“We’ll make a new life,” Daemon said as the first light of dawn crept over the horizon. “One where no one can tell us who to be or how to love.”

For the first time in years, you felt hope bloom in your chest. The path ahead was uncertain, but with Daemon by your side, you knew you could face anything.

“I’m yours,” you said, turning to look at him. “And you are mine.”

Daemon’s smile was soft, his eyes filled with a love that burned brighter than dragon fire. “Always,” he vowed.

Days turned into weeks as the two of you made your way farther from the reach of your family. Each village and town you passed through seemed to blur into the next, but the freedom you felt was intoxicating. For the first time in your life, you weren’t just surviving—you were living.

One evening, as the two of you rested near a quiet stream, Daemon handed you a small, carved trinket—a dragon made of polished obsidian. “I saw this in the last town,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “It reminded me of you.”

You turned the small figure over in your hands, touched by the thoughtfulness of the gesture. “Because I’m as stubborn as a dragon?” you teased, smiling.

“No,” he said, his gaze locking with yours. “Because you’re as fierce and beautiful as one.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. “And you’re impossible,” you whispered against his mouth. “But I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Despite the joy you found in each other, the shadow of your family’s reach loomed ever-present. One fateful day, as you and Daemon rested at an inn far from the capital, a rider arrived bearing your family’s sigil. You spotted him through the window, the sight sending a chill down your spine.

“They’ve found us,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Daemon was at your side in an instant, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Let them come,” he said, his voice a low growl. “They’ll regret it.”

You placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. “We can’t fight them, Daemon. Not here. Innocent people will get hurt.”

His jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Then we’ll leave. Again.”

And so, the two of you vanished once more into the night, leaving behind the life you had started to build. But even as the road stretched endlessly before you, one thing remained constant: the love you and Daemon shared. It was a fire that refused to be extinguished, no matter how many forces tried to snuff it out.

As the sun set on another day, you turned to Daemon and said, “Thank you. For choosing me. For fighting for me.”

He pulled you into his arms, his lips brushing against your forehead. “I’ll always choose you,” he said. “No matter what it takes.”

And in that moment, you knew that as long as you had Daemon, you had everything you needed.

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romerona · 14 days ago

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The Swan Princess; Westeros Version.

The Targaryen Princess is the younger sister of Rhaenyra and the second daughter of King Viserys and the late Queen Aemma x Lord Cregan Stark in a dynamic inspired by The Swan Princess.

Viserys and Rickon Stark arrange for the princess and Cregan to be wed once she comes of age. To build familiarity, they reunite them every few years (a rare moment of decency among men in House of the Dragon, but let's roll with it).

However, from a young age, they absolutely despise each other, setting the stage for a classic love-hate relationship.

Young fem Targ reader x young Cregan Stark.

Warnings: kids being kids.

The second encounter.

Cregan Stark lingered by the sweets spread, trying his best to fade into the carved wooden panels that lined Dragonstone’s grand banquet hall. The lavish celebration for Prince Aemond’s second name day was in full swing, the chamber brimming with lords and ladies draped in silks and velvets. Overhead, crystal chandeliers cast dancing lights across the polished floors, while the mingling scents of spiced meats, honey cakes, and salt-laced sea air reminded Cregan just how far he was from the North.

He would not have chosen to be here of his own accord—his father, Lord Rickon, had insisted upon it. The North had to show deference to the crown, and so here he was, a wolf trapped among gaudy southern birds. The swirl of vibrant fabrics and the swirl of conversation grated on him, making him feel more foreign with each passing moment.

He absently picked at an apple tart, gaze drifting around the hall. Laughter rolled in waves, bright silks shimmered, and voices overlapped like waves against a rocky shore. Then he saw you.

You, just eight summers old, stood on the dance floor, your silver hair braided and held in place by glittering dragon clips. A genial lord—perhaps one of your father’s many courtiers—guided you through a stately dance, each step practised and careful. Your gown of pale red silk, shot through with gold thread, flared as you twirled, catching the light as if it were spun from Dragonfire. Beside you, Princess Rhaenyra clapped politely, regal and composed, yet it was you who drew every eye, all luminous joy and childlike grace.

You seemed taller than he recalled—though still slight in that dainty, southern way. Everyone knew that you and your elder sister were the King’s favorites, and your presence commanded a sort of reverence. Lords angled for a moment of your attention, ladies curtsied and cooed with honeyed compliments. It was as though the court revolved around you.

From her seat by the King, Queen Alicent watched you dance and laugh. Her mouth curved in a careful smile, but even at ten, Cregan could sense it was a mask. The queen, he suspected, did not relish sharing Viserys’s affections with the daughters who stole so much of his warmth.

He glowered at the thought, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Honestly, what made you so remarkable? You were willful, well-pampered, prone to speak your mind, and insufferable too, if anyone were to ask him. You weren’t that special. Plenty of other children had those traits, too. And yet—no matter how he tried to turn his attention elsewhere, his gaze kept straying back to you, spinning in the lord’s gentle arms, your soft laughter rising above the music as if it had a life all its own.

Cregan stiffened the moment you approached, his posture snapping to an almost militant straightness as though he were preparing for a lecture rather than a conversation. The mischievous gleam in your lilac eyes immediately set his jaw tight—it was the same infuriating spark that had earned him countless reprimands from his father for failing to act with proper decorum around you. You sank into a delicate curtsy, the motion practised and graceful, yet the teasing quirk of your lips betrayed any semblance of genuine respect.

“Princess,” he greeted you with a curt bow, voice clipped. “What an unexpected honour.”

Your tone dripped with feigned gravity as you replied, “The honour is all mine, my lord. Stumbling upon the northern wolf lurking beside the sweetmeats… One might almost think you’ve been tamed.”

Cregan’s brow furrowed in irritation, a flash of defiance sparking in his grey eyes.

“A wolf doesn’t require taming, Your Highness,” he countered. “I stand exactly where I choose.”

You tilted your head toward the table piled high with sweetmeats and pastries, your voice light with false innocence. “And this is where you choose to linger, Lord Stark? Tell me, do the pastries in Winterfell rival these in quality?”

His retort was clipped. “They’re simpler, yes—but far more to my taste than this… southern absurdity.”

You drew a theatrical gasp, hand pressing over your heart. “How you wound me, my lord. Are you implying that life in the North eclipses all else?”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “I do not imply. I state fact.”

Your eyes sparkled with mischief, your voice carrying an air of mock civility. “Well, I ought not to take this as an offence. After all, it’s remarkable that you manage the common tongue so gracefully, considering your… brutish northern customs. Tell me, Lord Stark, do you and your kin still howl to your old gods beneath trees, hoping for a reply?”

Cregan’s hand tightened around the tart, the edges of the crust crumbling under the force of his grip. His jaw locked, and his stormy gaze fixed on you with a warning glare. “Since we’re trading such pleasant observations, Princess, perhaps we should turn our attention to dragons—or rather, your conspicuous lack of one.”

The teasing light that danced in your lilac eyes extinguished instantly. Your expression sharpened, the flush of indignation colouring your cheeks.

“What did you say?” you demanded, your voice like the edge of a blade.

Cregan didn’t flinch, folding his arms as he leaned slightly forward, his tone steady and deliberate.

“I said,” he repeated, drawing out each word with an almost casual air, “that a Targaryen princess without a dragon… is painfully ordinary.”

Your entire body stiffened at his words, and your hands curled into tight fists at your sides. Your face burned, the flush deepening as you glared up at him with fiery intensity.

“You will take that back,” you hissed, your voice trembling with barely restrained fury.

“I will not,” he replied simply, meeting your gaze without so much as a blink. It was a standoff, the air between you crackling like kindling set alight, neither willing to back down.

Before he could utter another syllable, you thrust both hands against his chest. The force of the shove made him stagger backwards, one heel catching on the table’s wooden frame. In a desperate bid for balance, he reached out, only for his fingers to catch the trailing hem of your fine silk gown.

The sound of ripping fabric tore through the air, followed by a cacophony of disaster as you both tumbled backwards onto the table. The grand centrepiece—a towering, intricately decorated cake—collapsed under your combined weight, sending frosting, crumbs, and sugar flowers flying in every direction.

For a moment, the hall was silent, the music grinding to a halt as every pair of eyes turned toward the spectacle. The only sound was the slow, steady drip of frosting onto the polished floor.

Cregan blinked up at the chaos, realizing he was sprawled awkwardly amid a sea of ruined confections. Beside him, you were similarly dishevelled, your silver hair streaked with frosting, your gown torn and stained with layers of cream and crumbs.

“You… absolute… oaf!” you hissed through clenched teeth, scrambling to sit up, your lilac eyes blazing with fury. With surprising agility, you scrambled onto him, flailing your small fists in a chaotic flurry.

“You shoved me!” Cregan barked, raising his arms to fend off your flurry of tiny fists. Your attempts to pummel him were more chaotic than effective, but you were determined.

“You insulted me!” you countered, your voice sharp with indignation.

“And you called me a brute!” Cregan retorted, his voice rising in frustration as he seized your wrists, halting your frantic blows.

“That’s because you are a brute!” you snapped, wrenching your arms free with a sharp tug. Your small frame trembled with indignation as you raised a tiny fist, ready to land what you clearly thought would be a devastating blow—but before you could make contact, a broad-shouldered knight, Ser Harwin Strong, intervened.

In one swift motion, he scooped you up and hoisted you over his shoulder like a sack of grain, preventing any further skirmish while you continued to struggle, your fury undiminished. His expression was caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

“Unhand me, Ser Harwin!” you demanded, still reaching out in an attempt to land your blow, your face aflame with indignation. But Ser Harwin only tightened his hold, keeping you securely aloft as your small fists flailed at empty air.

“Cregan.”

He froze the moment that familiar voice reached his ears—low, firm, and unmistakably displeased. Heart thudding, Cregan scrambled upright, hastily brushing crumbs and frosting from his tunic in a futile attempt to salvage some semblance of dignity, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as he prepared to face his father, Lord Rickon Stark, whose stern grey eyes were now fixed on his son’s every move.

And then, beyond the circle of onlookers, came the voice of King Viserys. The instant he called your name, your thrashing ceased as if a spell had been broken. One fist remained clenched mid-swing, but the sound of your father’s stern summons froze you in place. You wriggled once more on Ser Harwin Strong’s shoulder before going limp with a huff of frustration, clearly aware that further resistance would only make matters worse.

The great hall seemed to hold its breath as King Viserys stepped forward, his frown deepening at the sight of the battered dessert table and his frosting-smeared daughter. Guards and courtiers parted to let him pass, and in the stillness that followed, every eye was fixed on you and the young Stark lord who stood before you, equally dishevelled.

The King’s gaze swept over the scene: the shattered remnants of the centrepiece cake, frosting streaked across the floor, and two children—one caked in sugar and silk, the other in crumbs and frayed northern dignity—standing stiffly before him. His expression shifted from confusion to thinly veiled disappointment as the whispers around the hall grew.

When he finally spoke, his voice was calm but carried the commanding weight of the crown. “What in the Seven Hells is the meaning of this?”

Ser Harwin carefully lowered you to the ground as though handling a volatile brew. You straightened your spine as best you could, brushing futilely at the frosting streaked across your gown. Despite your bedraggled appearance, you jutted your chin up stubbornly, attempting to smudge away stray frosting with all the dignity you could muster—though you succeeded only in spreading more crumbs along your sleeve. You shot a fiery glare at Cregan, who still looked like he wished the floor would swallow him whole.

Lord Rickon Stark chose that moment to step forward, clearing his throat. “Your Grace, my son—”

Viserys raised a hand, silencing him without a word. All eyes were on the King, and he, in turn, focused on the two of you with a mix of bewilderment and annoyance.

“Princess,” he said, meeting your gaze. “You will speak first.”

You gave an indignant huff, shooting another scornful glance at Cregan before reluctantly turning to face your father.

“He insulted me grievously, Father—told me I was ordinary because I do not yet ride a dragon!” Her lilac eyes flashed, and she swiped another glob of cake from her hair with a wrinkled nose. “So I merely defended my honour.”

“Aye, by launching yourself at me,” Cregan muttered, though he tried to appear calm, there was no hiding the stiff set of his shoulders—or a dollop of frosting sliding down his cheek. “And need I remind you, Princess, that you provoked me first by comparing my prayers to… howling at the moon?”

A chorus of hushed snickers rippled around them. Viserys’s brow lifted, and for a brief moment, it seemed he fought off a faint smirk.

“I see,” he said, folding his arms. “So, if I follow correctly, you have reduced a royal banquet to a frosted battlefield… because of a few sharp words?”

At that, you set your jaw stubbornly. “Words are not so harmless, Father. They carry weight, and his were particularly unkind.”

“And what of your words?” Cregan interjected, his chin lifting in quiet defiance. “They were none too gentle either, Your Grace.”

You flicked your gaze back to him, a sharp retort already on your tongue. “Oh, do hush, northern brute. I’d not have wasted my breath if you hadn’t been so—”

“Enough.” Viserys’s voice rang out, firm and commanding, cutting through the rising tension like a blade. The authority in his tone stilled you both, silencing further outbursts.

“You are both of noble blood,” he said, his gaze hard as it swept between the two of you. “This—” he gestured at the ruins of the cake, the scattered fruit, and the stunned courtiers “—is not how nobility ought to conduct itself. Especially not before half the realm’s finest lords and ladies.”

Your cheeks burned hotter than dragonfire, but your pride refused to crumble entirely. “Father, I—”

Viserys’s gaze hardened, silencing your protest before it fully formed. “You will each apologize. Properly.”

Your mouth opened to argue, but his iron stare left no room for negotiation. Your teeth clenched, but with a long-suffering sigh, you turned to Cregan, your lips pressed into a thin line.

“It seems,” you began, each word forced through your stubborn pride, “I owe you an apology.” Your gaze flicked to your father, then back to the northern boy. “By the King’s command, of course.”

Cregan’s jaw tightened as he met your glare. He gave a shallow bow, his voice measured and formal.

“And I apologize for my words, Princess. However,” he added, unable to stop himself, “they were not spoken without reason.”

Your eyes narrowed, and for a moment, it seemed as though you might lunge at him again. But instead, you stood straighter, fixing him with a withering look. The silence stretched between you, heavy and sharp, until your father cleared his throat pointedly.

Both of you turned away at last, but the exchange between your gazes spoke louder than any words: I despise you.

And his? The feeling is mutual.

Helloooo, I hope you all enjoyed this one mess lol. But Oh, do I love making this. Also, thank you so much for the support, the likes, comments and reblogs, you all really make me have so much motivation.

<3 Thank you so muchhhh.

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